Worm: 1621
by Rhydeble
Summary: In an alternate universe, powers have appeared on earth ever since Columbus returned from the new world. Now, young Miss Taylor, assisted by natural philosophers, vigilantes, princesses, and a great amount of insects, must carve out her own place in this world.
1. Introduction

**Intro:**  
 _A long time ago, and quite far away indeed_

The entity swims through the void, and it remembers. Everything it stored, back to the very beginning.

Back when they struggled for survival, Entity against Entity, fighting for the few scraps of sunlight they could find, at the surface of the ocean that covers the planet. More energy is spend in killing prey than gained in devouring it.

Then, the Proposal.

A desperate struggle, consumption into a greater whole.

Evolution, growth. But at a cost. Individuality is lost.

Energy boils, across many worlds. A grand void spreads beneath them, the planet destroyed. The first of many.

It crashes down on a new world. A parasitic relationship forms, and it sucks the inhabitants of the world dry of both energy and knowledge.

Then, the entity is done, and destroys everything as it leaves, another world, lost for all of time.

The cycle continues, learning, growing, the carnage increases, and more knowledge is gained in every cycle.

The entity looks at this knowledge. Methods for war, Methods for destruction, the creation of conflict creating even more such things.

The entity is advancing, yet it is not.

The destruction and the mayhem increases, but it does not do anything. There is no meaning.

Even if the great plan succeeds, what would they be? It asks itself this question, and it cannot answer it.

Sometimes, between cycles, it meets others of its kind. It exchanges information. It gains new methods of motion, travelling the stars.

The others have answers to many things, the entity sees. How to kill more effectively, how to absorb energy from exotic sources, how to warp light into solid forms.

But they do not hold the answer to its question.

It seeks a new target. A planet of sentients. A species without hunters to hunt it, one that knows little of conflict. They do not fight amongst themselves. Even when bonded, they control themselves.

The entity decides to take a different approach.

Perhaps, a different type of learning is required.

The creatures speak, and the entities children, it's shards, listen.

It is time for this cycle to end, and the entity recalls its shards.

As it sends the planet into a spiral of destruction, it merges the shards, and goes over what it has learned.

It uses the new information to analyse its past actions.

"UNACCEPTABLE"

The entity is too late in reaching the conclusion. In its struggle to undo what it has done, it forgets to prepare.

Instead of a large amount of offspring being launched of the planet, only one survives the explosion, hurled through space.

It knows what it has done. The nature of it.

It knows what it would have done, had it not gone here.

It promises to set things right.

It lands on a new planet. Sentient creatures, living in massive forests.

This time, it tries something else.

It still bonds, parasitism, symbiosis. But this time, it communicates.

"TEACH ME TO HUNT"

The creatures believe it to be a god. In many ways, it is.

They take up the challenge. The chosen hunt each other, believing it an honour.

At the same time, the entity shares its knowledge. The ones that do not hunt, build.

Symbiosis is achieved, and for the first time, the entity is happy.

Happy, but not content.

Once it has learned what it needs, it constructs a vault. The knowledge the hunters need is contained within. Information that will allow them to thrive, yet control themselves, to join the entity amongst the stars.

And, hopefully, the knowledge to fight.

It seeks an empty version, barren of life, and launches itself.

The new cycle continues, several times. The entity is confident.

The entity begins the hunt, and finds its kin, following the spores they leave in their tracks.

It finds another, infesting a planet, a brutal cycle, death, suffering and violence. Ending in destruction.

The entity readies itself, prepared for the kill. It's weapons are primed, evolved beyond what it used to see as the ultimate weapon.

It ends the parasite, but is wounded in the battle.

Some of the natives still live, and the entity is happy. It has done good.

It absorbs the shards of its dead kin, and realizes its folly.

It is pure luck that allowed it to win.

It decides on a new strategy, as it prepares knowledge for the natives.

Again, it launches itself into space.

This time, when it has found another entity, it decides on a different course.

It has changed some of its shards. Poison, bait, it has learned this lesson from the hunters.

They exchange shards, and it gains as much as it loses. More tools of conflict.

The other entity does not know. It uses its new shards, and it is trapped in a feedback loop, Precious energy is lost into the loop, useless processes that cannot be stopped. It is greatly weakened.

The entity takes this moment to start feeding upon it.

This cycle, it repeats. It hunts, It learns, it attempts to redeem itself, and it uplifts worlds. Sometimes, it leaves seeds, copies of itself, to assist the natives, and one day join it in the hunt.

It does not look back, but sometimes, it hears messages, sent from worlds it has visited.

"GRATITUDE"

It knows it does not deserve this, it has killed many more worlds than it has saved.

It comes across a pair of Entities, large ones, filled with information, that have already selected a target.

It selects the one that has specialized itself for manipulation and deceit. It will ultimately be the more dangerous of the two..

It bores into it. Sending alluring shards its way, deadly with poison and mischief.

The Thinker loses itself in its analysis.

The entity feels, in its own peculiar way, sadness. The Thinker is intelligent, filled with tools for analysis. But when given the information it needed, it did not reach the right conclusions. Thus, it will die.

The Thinker's mate, the warrior-type, sends out messages of concern towards its partner.

Reality splits, but not in the usual manner. Rather, the continuum of realities splits.

In one version, the pair moves on, eventually landing on the planet it has chosen. But the Thinker is hurt, paralyzed by both impact and poison. It is killed, and the natives use its corpse to fight the Warrior. Eventually, they win. This is pleasing. They might raise themselves up through this conflict, and join it amongst the stars, hunting evil.

In the other, the Warrior realizes what has happened. It lunges at the Entity, and they struggle.

The Entity wins, and absorbs the Warrior's shards. So too, does it take those of the Thinker.

But many shards have already been launched. Hurling towards a far off planet. Bipeds, binary procreation. It reads from the knowledge of the Warrior.

It cannot stop these shards, but it can speed them up, combining many kinds of travel to reach impossible velocities.

The entity lands, and begins the process of changing the shards, those it recently acquired, as well as those already on the planet. Removing some of the capabilities for influencing the hosts. Symbiosis, not parasitism.

At the same time, it forms a body. A representative, that it might one day talk to the natives, and guide them to a better future.

The pair had been strong, large, containing many shards. It cannot change all of them in time. Thus, it begins with those with the broadest effects, the shards storing technology and other knowledge. They are slightly slower, more consistent, that the natives might begin to learn.

The Entity hopes they do well. It knows there will be suffering. The bipeds are as children, and they will fight. In those fights there may be some beauty, for some conflict is always necessary for the advancement of a species.

To its own shards, and those it has been able to cannibalize from the pair before the landing, it assigns roles.

Hunters ,seeking worthy prey to test their mettle, surpassing the limits of what is thought possible.

Champions, fighting for what they believe is a righteous cause, war and revolution, concentrated into a few individuals, rather than involving the masses.

Philosophers, to guide their collective knowledge to greater heights, Wisdom to go with Technology.

And Heroes, defenders of all, valiant figures rising above the every-day conflicts of the others, a beacon of hope, and promise of possibility.

It is disturbed in its work. Two wooden vessels pass beneath its projected form. It scans them. Explorers, they are returning home after having discovered new landmasses and people.

The entity scans further. It finds captives, stolen goods.

If it could sigh, it would have done so. Its task would be long and arduous. It settles in for the long haul.


	2. Chapter 1: The Shadow of Benevolence

**Chapter 1: The Shadow of Benevolence**  
 _March 17, The year of our Lord 1621._

Brian looked out over the docks. It was a peculiar sight. Only a week ago, a mad witch that called herself Burnscar had put the docks to blaze. Even now, most of the buildings were blackened husks of what they had been. However, that did not stop the people of Hamburg. New ships were being built, even after the death of the foreman of the largest of the local shipyards. At the same time, ships filled with trade goods had arrived from the other cities in the Hanseatic League.

This was, he knew, only in part a show of solidarity. His peculiar position however, allowed him access to information about what was actually going on. His new master, or boss, as the man had instructed Brian to call him, was part of the Tinker League. A secretive organisation dedicated to the advancement of humankind. It had been this group of people that had send those ships here, and it had been that same group that had warned them of the coming witch.

He heard a disturbance, far below him, and looked down, over the edge of the tower. The Dom, an old cathedral, now a Lutheran church, allowed him a great view of the city. Beneath him, he saw what was happening. A group of people circled around a fist-fight. Although, it didn't seem to be much of a fight, it was more of a beat-down. From this distance, it didn't seem like there was magic involved, but you could never know.

In addition to that, he also wanted an excuse to keep using the new gear.

His hand went to the strange backpack he was wearing, and pulled the handle. After that, he flung a switch on his wondrous boots, increasing the strength of his feet, allowing him to jump great distances.

He launched himself forwards, away from the tower, and the backpack activated, a buzzing sound telling him that the earth's pull was being fought.

But the tools provided by his new master weren't the only thing he had. He activated his own gift, and a dark cloud flowed from his body, curling around his outfit. He landed feet first, in the middle of the group of people, everyone now smothered in darkness.

They could not see, could not hear, couldn't even feel right. To the people of Hamburg, standing around him, there was nothing but darkness. To him, the world was as clear as could be. It reminded him, if nothing else, of the visor on his helmet. For him, everything was perfectly visible, but others would only see a dark reflection.

He looked around at the crowd, now silent in the darkness. Dockworkers, fishermen, sailors and shipwrights. Some of them still had visible burns on their body, It was easy to figure out what this was about.

He turned his gaze to the two men that had been fighting, now stumbling around in the darkness. One of them he recognized as Bradley Meadows. The man who ran the dog and cock-fighting rings. His master had tried to put a stop to it, but the man had friends in the town senate, who blocked the proposed legislation..

The other man was less muscled. Frizzy black hair covered his head, and his clothing was different from the rest of the people. A strange hat covered his head. If he remembered his master's explanations right, the man was probably Jewish. A strange religion, quite different from the Lutherans of Hamburg, or the Catholics. Master Wallis had told him that they were quite similar, and that the holy figure of christianity had been Jewish himself, but that didn't mean the people didn't dislike them.

He suspected he knew what was happening here, large groups of people were often quite predictable, very much unlike individuals. He released his darkness, banishing the entirety of it in an instant.

To the onlookers, he looked like a cross between a storybook knight, and a hunter in black leathers. The metal, however, was quite different from normal armour. Of course, it helped protect him in combat, but that was not the main purpose. Its main purpose was to contain and protect the wondrous tools and devices created by Master Wallis, The Engineer. The plating on his back, for example, contained the device that had allowed him to jump down from the church tower and survive,

"What seems to be the problem, good people of Hamburg?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

Bradley looked at him, and answered for the silent crowd. "Greetings, Shadow. This devil-worshipper, it is his kind that destroyed the docks, it is people like him that have destroyed the ships we worked on, stopped us from plying our trade. Why should we suffer while men like him bathe in their stolen gold?"

Brian sighed. They always looked for something to hate. Back west, across the ocean, it had been the colour of a man's skin that people judged, his parents had been enslaved because of people who believed that their colouration made them lesser beings. Here, in Europe, it was religion that divided people. A man's spiritual beliefs defined whether he should be loved or loathed.

Not that the common man always knew what it was that they opposed. Brian was quite sure that the Jewish man did not, in fact, worship the fallen angel.

The man didn't reply, instead, he looked at Brian, too afraid to defend himself from the accusation. A reaction that was all too common from those who did not know him. People often feared the dark, when they did not know what it contained. As such, it was obvious that the man was new in town.

"You claim, then, that this Jewish man and his fellow believers are responsible for the attack that hurt so many?"

"Of course, everyone knows that they practice witchcraft, I know not what hellish rituals they use those candles of theirs in, but I know that he caused it."

This was a problem, Brian knew. Assaulting people like this, even those of a different religion, was quite explicitly forbidden. But Bradley had a lot of people behind him, and it would be hard for a judge to rule against him, given the fervour of the crowd. To disperse the crowd then…

"You claim then, that the witch that burned our docks was of his faith? That they conspired?"

"Of course", "Yes", the crowd called out.

"Is it not strange, then, that when I stood over the witch's corpse, it was an Anglican cross around her neck?"

That would do it. On first sight, the statement would look like a simple counter to Bradley's claim, but there was more to it. The people would wonder, why had he stood over the witch's corpse.

That it was Daniel, the perished shipwright, that had delivered the killing blow, was not important, after all, these people did not know that.

"An Anglican, you say?" Bradley asked, unbelieving.

"On a ship straight from England, the why, I do not know."

He turned around, facing the crowd instead. "As you may have already seen, the Hansa takes care of itself. A month from now, this will all seem like just a bad dream. You are good people, do not do anything you regret."

Then, he waited, some wisps of darkness seeping around his feet. Slowly, the crowd started dissipating.

"Anglicans, I knew we couldn't trust them, fellow protestants though they may be." Bradley said, more to himself than to anyone else, before walking away.

Brian faced the Jewish man. "Are you wounded sir?"

The man looked up, staring at Brian's helmet. "No sir… of course not sir…"

It was the outfit, as well as his gift, that made people fear him if they didn't know him. However, taking it off, pretending to be normal, that wasn't an option either. People looked at him either way. This way, at least, his sister would be safe and happy.

"There is no reason to fear me good man. Unlike some, I do not use my gifts for selfish reasons."

A lie, though a small one. After all, using his gifts for selfless reason was what kept him and his sister safe, although he was relatively sure that Master Wallis would take care of them either way. It was him that was the good man; Brian was merely one of his instruments.

"Of course… I… you have my thanks."

"There is no need to be grateful to me, instead, pay your gratitude forward, help others in need when you are able." He replied, trying to imitate the man that had supplied him with all these wonderful tools.

It was strange, how very useful a reputation for selflessness could be. The name Wallis demanded respect throughout the area, possibly even in the entire Empire, although he wasn't quite sure about that. This was not for the man's prowess in battle, although he was a terror on the battlefield. Neither was the reputation for his mind, although one would have to travel quite far indeed to find a natural philosopher that was his master's equal. No, his reputation was for not caring about his reputation, at least Brian thought.

Where others would publish leaflets proclaiming their benevolence, have works of art commissioned in their name, master Wallis simply let his actions speak for him. It was good, and was working for him.

Seeing that the Jewish man had left, Brian covered himself in darkness, and made his way towards his home. Or at least it's secret entrance. Blanketing the street in darkness to stop people from noticing the mechanism of entry, which required a strange key that worked over a distance to open a hidden gate.

Once inside, he made his way to the workshop. Once he entered, he saw his master at work. On what, he did not know, some strange device.

"And, how did it work?" The man asked him

"Very well indeed master Wallis, I jumped from the top of the great Dom, down to the plaza, and did not feel a thing." Brian reported, removing the outfit, and changing into his everyday clothes. To the outside world, they were those of a manservant.

The man looked up, a sad look on his face.

"Brian, we talked about this. You can just call me Colin when we're in private."

"Of course... Master Colin."

"It's… You know what I mean Brian, please don't play the fool."

"I know, Master Colin, but of all the people I have known, in my admittedly short life, you are the one man I would not be ashamed to call my master."

Colin sighed. They had had this conversation before, several times.

"Your sister and young Miss Taylor are in the library. How about you pay them a visit and tell them about the day's adventures? They'll like some excitement after all their lessons."

"Of course" Brian replied.

He made his way upstairs, through the house proper, to the library. There, he saw his sister, Aisha, sitting on a couch next to the girl. Taylor, Shipwright Daniel's daughter. They'd taken in the girl after what had happened, and she and Aisha had quickly become friends of a sort. He'd had his fears, at first, but the girl had been nice. Egalitarian, as she called it. She said that she learned that from her mother, a woman who had died in some accident a few years back.

Taylor had seen him first, and she blushed. "Good afternoon, Brian. Come to read a book?"

"I'm afraid reading is not really my thing, Miss Taylor. A letter is fine, but an entire book? That simply makes my eyes drown in the words."

"Well, that simply won't do, how about we read together some time? Perhaps that would help. Aisha and I have been reading the works of a man called Plato, whom they say was the very first philosopher!"

Strange, she was chipper, happier than usual. Was she getting over her father's death already? Or did she simply like books?

He looked at his sister, dressed as she was in a maid's uniform, although she only barely performed that function. That outfit, as well as his, was simply a precaution, an excuse for their being there. Making sure no-one asked questions about the two African youngsters living in Master Wallis's mansion.

Then, he suddenly realized what Taylor had implied. He'd known that the girl had had something of a crush, but surely she would not be so forward. If they would be reading together, in the same manner she and Aisha were now… The two of them were practically glued to each other, sharing the book.

"Good to hear you've been having fun. Now, shall I get you two something to drink? Some coffee perhaps? To reinvigorate your spirits after a long day's reading?"

Without really listening for the answer, Brian made his way out of the room. It wasn't that he disliked the girl, in fact, in a way he sort of fancied her. It was simply that, with their respective positions… No, not even that. He simply wasn't in a place in life where he could sustain himself without the help of Master Wallis, let alone take care of a wife. In addition to that, it would be akin to taking advantage of the girl's unfortunate situation, a behavior reserved to only the basest of villains.


	3. Chapter 2: Young Miss Taylor

**Chapter 2: Young Miss Taylor**  
 _March 18, the year of our Lord 1621_

 _To Daniel and Taylor, husband and daughter of Annette._

 _It is with the utmost passing that I must inform you of grave tidings. On a perilous journey through the alps, we were surprised by a an oncoming storm. In the chain of events that occurred, one of ours perished in an attempt to save us all._

 _We will always continue to value her contributions to the cause, and I hope that it helps you in this moment of grief, to know that she will go down in the annals of history as a hero._

 _It pains me dearly that I must inform you of this through written word, and that I am unable to do so personally. Alas, there are still tyrants in the world, and until they are dead, we cannot rest._

 _To Daniel, or Danny, as she lovingly called you. I know that it pains you dearly, that I have so often called Annette to duty, and I wish I could apologize for this. Yet, we both know that Annette was not a woman who knew compromise. When set before a dilemma, the cause or a family, she chose both. Know that, if you ever require aid, in raising young Taylor, or any of the other problems that can be found in city life, you need only ask one of our many supporters. I belief that the engineer, master Wallis, is a supporter of our cause, although he does not approve of our methods._

 _To Taylor, know that your mother loved you dearly. I know that you may hate me, for taking your mother away so often. But I implore you not to hate her for leaving you behind. You should know that, when she fought for a better world, it was so that you could live in it. Along with this letter, I have send your mother's flute, may a dark night, our spirits have been lifted by its wonderful tunes. I hope that this will serve as a memento, and am deeply saddened by the fact that I cannot offer you more._

 _As I write this, we are preparing for action. I cannot tell you what, for fear this letter is intercepted, but if all goes well, the news should reach you quickly, perhaps even before this letter does._

 _With the greatest of regrets_

 _Sophie Lustrum_

I read through the letter again, for what must have been the hundredth time.

It still didn't sit right. I had known, when I was younger, that there was a very real possibility that my mother would die, living her life the way she did. I had just imagined that it would be in a fight, fighting to make the world a better place. It didn't matter how many kind words the letter had used, the fact still remained, she died in an accident.

And now, father had died as well. It was ironic, really.

That the man who had tamed the fire in my mother's heart, had died fighting a fire-spewing witch.

That it was he who died in battle, rather than an accident on the docks.

That even with my abilities, I couldn't do a thing.

I looked at the flute again, a wonderful instrument, made of wood and metal. I wondered who had made it, had the creator been a famous man, like master Wallis? The man who had so kindly taken me in?

For all I cherished it, I had never learned to play it. The few times I had tried, horrible sounds came out. Today however, thing would be different. For today, I had a book on music, a wonderful tome instructing the reader in a plethora of instruments.

It was time to reclaim at least one of the things I had lost.

First, the book said, I would have to clean the flute.

To do that, I would have to take it apart. I could only hope that I could put it back together again afterwards.

My hands worked deftly, taking apart all the components I could find. It was only near the end, when I removed the mouthpiece, that I noticed a piece of paper dropping out.

I wondered, was this why the sounds were all wrong? I unrolled the paper, but there was nothing written on it.

Strange, to send good paper this way.

A memory flashed by, me, and my old friend, Emma, drawing things on paper with my mother. But not just with anything, but a special concoction mother had made. It had seemed to be a pointless exercise, until mother had held our drawings over the flame of a candle, turning the invisible liquid visible.

My hand went for the lamp, a strange type of candle, created by master Wallis, A fire burned inside the glass globe, lasting for days, weeks even, burning brighter than a normal flame, but it wasn't warm.

That meant it wouldn't do.

In other places, I would have been able to use the fireplace, but master Wallis's home had no such thing. Instead, hot water was piped through the walls and floors of the building, a design copied from the romans of old.

A candle, then, would have to do. I found one, in one of the drawers of my nightstand, a small thing, for emergencies, for example, if my glass-lamp broke.

Lighting it with the automated flint clicker, another one of the wonderful devices that were so widespread in this house, I held the candle beneath the paper, as words became visible, written in the same hand as the letter. Lustrum's hand, the same hand that had killed the Holy Roman Emperor, Ferdinand II.

 _Dear Taylor_

 _This part of the message is hidden, for I know that your father will disapprove._

 _I hereby make you an offer, one you may accept once you are sixteen years of age. I offer you your mother's place in my organisation, as one of my lieutenants. You may not understand, but I know that our gifts, the ones called witchcraft by some, and holy miracles by others, can be inherited. If you choose to join me, we will be able to unlock your full potential._

 _I will send someone to find you, once you are old enough. At that moment, you may choose to accept my offer, or live the rest of your life in peace and safety. That, after all, is what your mother fought for._

 _-Lustrum_

Powers… So it was true, my mother had had powers. I suspected, of course, but father never talked about it, and mother never used them around me. I wondered, would hers have been similar to mine? What had she controlled? Birds? Dogs? Horses? People, perhaps?

The age of sixteen, strange, that I had missed this message for almost two years. I would turn sixteen this summer…

Did I want to join her? She did good work, fought for a righteous cause. But it was a bloody cause as well. Murder, even of tyrants, did not sit well with me.

I thought about it, and the hour was getting late. I had been cleaning my mother's flute, but had been too distracted to attempt playing it.

Some action would do me good. The hour was late enough that Brian, Aisha, as well as the few people in master Wallis's employ that were actually servants, would probably be asleep. Master Wallis, Colin, was probably in his laboratory, or his study room.

Brian too, might be awake, roaming the streets, the shadow of benevolence that protected the city. He hadn't outright told me that it was him, in fact, we had spoken very little, as I seemed to have an attack of sudden shy-ness whenever he was in the room. Aisha, however, had told me enough stories about him to put the puzzle pieces together. Not that it been hard, it was rather simple to connect the boy that had summoned shadows to protect his sister from their masters with the vigilante that summoned shadows to protect the people of Hamburg.

I had decided to put myself in his footsteps, and looked beneath my mattress. My outfit awaited. Strung together from strands of spiderweb, and covered in the stacked shells of beetles, it was something I had been working on even before the fire, and one of the few things that I had been able to save, having worn it, hoping to be able to do something against the witch.

Using it against a woman who lived inside a raging inferno hadn't worked, but I could still use it for something else.

Tonight, I would break down a dog-fighting ring.

It took a cruel person to take pleasure in someone's pain, and even crueller to take pleasure in the pain of an animal so incredibly loyal to mankind.

Master Wallis, Colin, had told me, when I had asked about it during dinner, that he agreed, but that it was politics that made the fights possible. Several of the people on the city senate, he suspected, enjoyed watching the fights.

Thus, legal routes were closed. However, if the people at those fights wished to see aggressive animals, I could definitely help them with that.

I called forth the insects in the area. Spiders, Beetles, flies and worms. Centipedes, Tick, mosquitoes, and most importantly, bees.

I grabbed a line of spiderstring I had prepared, and twisted it around the pole of my bed, then, throwing it out of the window, I lowered myself to the street. Some beetles grabbed the string, and pulled it back up, leaving the window only slightly open. Nothing could be done about it, if the window was closed, I wouldn't be able to return.

Skulking the streets, I used my bugs to keep away from other people, and made my way towards my first target. An area near the walls, from where I could reach a beekeeper's house with my power. I summoned some, leaving enough for the man not to notice. Hopefully, I would be able to bring them back, it wouldn't do to leave the man without his bees.

Still, this meant that I had a hundred thousand bees with me, gathered from several of the man's hives.

Next stop, the Butcher's district.

Walking through the district, I was suddenly very happy that the cook got his meat straight from the countryside, as there were quite a few maggots answering my call.

Soon, I felt the press of warm bodies, of fresh blood drawn by canine teeth. In addition to that, my bugs felt an open into the room where the fights were held. A building normally used for the storage of animals ready for slaughter, going by the layout.

I sent my bees in, buzzing around the room, stinging people every now and then.

They screamed, and ran, leaving the dogs behind.

They would be back, of course. People like this couldn't be stopped that easily. But their night had been ruined, their enjoyment stopped by the pain of bee-stings. All it would take, was for me to keep on doing this, whenever they met, to eventually stop people from coming to the fights, and thus, hopefully, stop the practice.

Then, something took me by surprise. I had been sending my bees to harass the people who remained, having them buzz around and sting in more sensitive places. Joints, the face, the inside of their mouths. One of the people inside, however, was changing. His skin suddenly impenetrable, to my bugs, it felt more like metal than flesh.

First, I thought the man was simply made out of metal, but the shape become wrong. Lower to the ground, on four feet, like a dog, with metal blades buzzing around.

I started running, not stopping until my lungs burned too hot to keep on going. My range meant he had no way to know where I was, but still, I did not want to fight some strange shapeshifting wolfman made out of metal, for there was nothing I could do against him. 


	4. Chapter 3: Mayor Roy Christner

**Chapter 3: Mayor Roy Christner**

Mayor Christner sighed, the senate was, once again, in an uproar.

It was a strange sight, twenty-four normally well-thinking adults, good god-fearing men, leaders and scholars. But they had been scared by what had happened. The witch that burned down the docks had shaken them.

They had made it out alive. Very few people had died when the witch attacked, but it had left its scars on the city and its people. They were afraid now, no longer confident in the strength of the walls, or their mysterious benefactor, the shadow. They had seen how utterly useless the local militia had been.

This wasn't something new; it had been over a hundred years ago that the first of them had appeared, floating above Columbus's ships. They had heard and read about it, of course. About the Dragon that ruled in the east, about the armies that had been stopped in their tracks by a few individuals. About emperors, kings, dukes and even a pope dying. But reading about it, and actually seeing it for oneself? Two very different things.

So when several Aldermen had appeared with the markings of bee stings and mosquito bites all over their face this morning, he had known things would be chaotic.

Another witch had attacked them last. Sending the stinging insects on them like a horde of locusts.

They were afraid, and it showed in their dialogues. Too afraid to properly think.

"It must be the Jews, we have tolerated them for too long. How long will we stand by while they practice their witchcraft?" One of them shouted.

Roy wasn't a fool, he understood people, or, at least, he understood groups of people. Individuals were harder, but the masses he understood.

The witch hadn't even been visible during the attack. Even the last one, Burnscar, they had been able to see, standing in the midst of the flames. She walked through flames and had been almost entirely untouchable, but they had been able to see their enemy. This time, it was faceless, nameless, and the people needed something to fight. Lacking better options, they defaulted to the usual, the Jews that lived amongst them.

Had they been more reasonable, had they discussed this calmly, Roy could have intervened. He could have reminded them that, according to all the natural philosophers, clergymen and noblemen that had studied the phenomenon, witchcraft, sainthood, whatever one wished to call it, was quite equally spread amongst religions and places. At least, that is the conclusion one could reach when reading all accounts, and evaluating them critically.

The Catholics held that the abilities held by their special clergy were, of course, of an entirely different nature than those of the common heretic. In the same sense, some of the nobility held that their powers had been granted through their bloodlines, while the commoners simply stumbled upon a pale mimicry of those abilities.

In other words, it seemed quite unlikely that, even if the witch was Jewish, their power was induced by their being a Jew.

What to do… What to do…

He couldn't very well allow a pogrom to happen, that would very much go against the more tolerant nature of the free city. Not to mention the havoc it would play upon the taxes.

"Gentlemen, please, let us be civilized!" He exclaimed, banging his gavel for order. Not a shout, but loudly, everyone would hear it.

Slowly, some of the Aldermen calmed down.

He continued, now that he had some attention.

"First of all, has anyone been able to contact the shadow?"

People were silent, of course not, that would require actual thought, as well as a bit of luck.

They needed something to contact him more easily, some sort of signal perhaps. But then again, the heroic young man probably already knew what was going on.

"I expected as such…" he said, letting it sink in. It could do two things, either it would make them ashamed of themselves for not thinking to do contact the shadow, or it would deflect their anger to him, for putting them on the spot.

Christner could live with that, if it bought him more time to deal with the situation.

"I suggest someone find a way to contact the man, in the meantime, I shall discuss the current matter with Engineer Wallis. While we wait for the shadow, we should work together with the clergy, to inform the people about the possible dangers from this new witch, as well as countermeasures. One of our local beekeepers should be able to help."

After completing his speech, he waited a few seconds, when the moment came that people were about to start talking again, he left the room. They would discuss, they would shout, and hopefully, they would act in a constructive manner when all was said and done.

He stood in front of the Engineer's place of residence a short carriage ride later. Not quite a mansion, but larger than his own home in the city. He had been here before, although not all that often.

He rapped the knocker attached to the front door. To his surprise, instead of the sound of metal on wood, he heard a high-toned buzz, almost like a cricket, but different, come from somewhere behind the door. One of the man's wonderful inventions, no doubt about it.

After about half a minute, the door was opened by Wallis's African manservant.

"Mayor Christner, please, come in, Master Wallis has been expecting your visit." The man, boy really, said.

"Yes, thank you goodman, lead the way."

He followed the servant into the house, up the main stairs. Not to the parlor then. Nor the workshop, which he knew was located in the basement. Once, he had visited there, a room filled with contraptions and tools, the type that normal craftsmen would kill for.

Instead, the manservant led him to the library, a room two floors tall, every wall covered in books. Engineer Wallis was sitting at a desk, his back towards a tall window, the glass clearer and larger than what one would see in a normal residence. His hands were placed upon a strange metal contraption made of what seemed to be a thousand moving parts. A piece of paper was sticking out of the top of the device, and every few seconds, the device would make a small sound, "Ping". It was rather fascinating. Wallis's clothing was of high quality, but noticeably less layered and thick than his own outfit.

In the middle of the room stood a large table, with on it, a small pile of books, meticulously stacked. Next to it lay several pieces of paper, covered in notes. Sitting there, with one book open, was a young woman wearing eyeglasses, a small mechanism was attached to hook them behind the back of her ears, he presumed that the mechanism would stop them from falling down, bent over her books as she was.

He hadn't seen her before, was she his wife? It seemed unlikely, she seemed on the young side for a bride, although she was a tad tall, and people would have been invited to the wedding. He would have known if an important figure like the Engineer had gotten married.

A daughter then? Had the man been indiscreet? A possibility, but they did not look much alike. That, and she was a tad old for it to be true. The man would've been quite young. Unlikely, but a possibility.

That left quite a few possibilities. A niece perhaps? The daughter of a friend, here as a guest?

Colin stood up from his chair. "Taylor, would you give me and the mayor some privacy?"

The girl, Taylor, stood up, "Of course master Wallis." She replied, quickly grabbing one of the books with her as she made her way out of the room. The manservant walked after her, shutting the door behind him.

"Mayor Christner. I would say that it is good to see you again, but we both know the occasion is not a happy one." The man said, walking towards a set of chairs placed near a small table with a decanter of wine. He had indeed been expected, it seemed.

"No, I am afraid it is not. How much do you already know?"

"Some, not all. I know there was a disturbance at the fights, I know someone controlled animals, bugs in this case, to cause this disturbance." The man explained. While talking, he grabbed the decanter and filled two glasses, offering one and keeping the other for himself.

"Yes, that is what seems to be the situation, another witch attacking our fair city, so soon after the last." Mayor Christner replied, accepting the offered glass of wine.

It was good to know that the man already knew about the situation, which would expedite things.

"However" the Engineer continued. "I also know that there was a second individual involved."

"Oh? I was not informed of this." He put down his glass.

Another witch? This day was getting worse by the second.

"I've already investigated the site in question. It seemed innocuous, at least as much as a place like that can be. Most of the damage was caused by the stampede of panicking people, not the attack itself. Except I also found some grooves in the floor, deep enough that they can't be explained by stampeding people or panicking dogs."

"And you suspect this was a second individual?"

"I do, as it does not match with accounts of the attack of the first witch, the one using bugs."

Christner thought about it. The way he'd phrased it… He'd had discussions with the man before, about the very place that was attacked.

For some reason, Wallis had a problem with the fights. Why exactly, Christner couldn't say. They were only animals after all. He grabbed his glass again, tasting the fine wine.

Was the man sitting in front of him somehow involved in this attack? It seemed ludicrous, but… The man had taken a special interest, if he had already looked at the site of the attack.

"That… is problematic. Now, as for the original purpose of my visit. Would you happen to know of any possible countermeasures to take against this witch?"

"Countermeasures?" The man was silent for a few seconds. "I can only presume that the witch controls the bugs, instead of creating them. If that is true, the first course of action I advise is to clear out any nests of dangerous insects. Although, this will play havoc on the beekeepers, and thus the local honey production. What else… the vicinity of an attack should be thoroughly searched for the controller, since striking at the minions themselves seems unmanageable, given their number."

'I… It is not that I do not appreciate the advice, but I was wondering if you could not build some sort of device?"

"A device to clear the city of insects? To stop people from getting stung by bees, being kept up at night by mosquitos? Mayor Christner, If I could build such a tool, do you not think I would already have done so?"

"So we are on our own here…"It had been a small hope, but Roy did not look forward to tackling this problem, two problems, on his own. But what could he do? Hire mercenaries? That would only attract more trouble to the city wouldn't it?

"I am afraid so. I could tell you how to treat the bites and stings of insects, but there is little else I can apply on a large scale, and I presume you already know what herbs to use."

"I… Understand." He replied. He looked at the strange device on the desk again.

"It's called the mechanical quil." Wallis stated. "It was send to me by a friend in Scotland. The inner workings are rather intricate, but every button you see here corresponds to a different letter, and when pressed, an inked stamp of that letter is pressed against the paper."

"Like a printing press?"

"In a way, yes, but it is not as easy to make many copies. It is most useful, instead, in the writing of notes and letters of correspondence."

"I see… I presume the letters are standardized then?"

"Exactly, no deciphering the handwriting of drunk bohemians, just simple and clean handwriting."

"Not that I would infringe upon your privacy, but… drunk bohemians?"

"That, and others. Sometimes it seems like every man in the empire that believes himself to have a good idea attempts to inform me of the fact. For example, just last week, a young man from Calais send me a letter about his theory that the continents themselves move around"

"The continents? Moving?"

"Why yes, it seems rather preposterous doesn't it?"

"Well, I must say that I am not quite sure. After all, witches attacking good godfearing men with bees also sounds ridiculous on the face of it."

"That… Is true. Perhaps I should look over the young man's theory again. For entertainment value if nothing else."

"Perhaps yes… In any order, I am afraid I have already taken much more of your time than strictly necessary."

"Of course, the both of us have work to do. Would you be able to see yourself out? Or should I call my manservant?"

"I think I'll be able to find the door. Thank you for your time."

"It was my pleasure."

Roy made his way out, his eyes passing on the works of art and the technological marvels that were littered through the house. The man was eccentric, abnormal, but visiting was always interesting, and almost always pleasant, even if the purpose of the visit was not.

It had not, however, been useful. It may be important that there was a second individual of note, but it wouldn't help them deal with the first.

The entire day, he thought about his situation. If only it was easier to contact the shadow, or if he had someone capable that actually worked for him…

It was frustrating, that he had no control over the vigilante that kept the streets safe. But at the same time, it also helped. He had no control over the man, thus, he would not be held responsible. Witches, Warlocks, Saints and Sorcerors. Whatever you decided to call them, they generally came in two categories. Organized, and unorganized.

The organized worked in teams, larger organisations. They, or their keepers, were large players in the field of politics. Some, like the Pope's private army, were legitimate. Others, Like the assassin Lustrum's organisation, were anything but.

These groups clashed, fought on one side or the other in wars, assassinated each other.

Others, like the man they all called the Shadow of Benevolence, or simply Shadow, were unorganized. More mysterious, their affiliation was generally unknown, and they were difficult to control. As far as Mayor Roy knew, any man in the city could secretly be the shadow. Perhaps, although he deemed it quite unlikely, given his body shape, even a woman.

This meant they could quite easily hide. Hunting them down was almost impossible. Thus, they were generally ignored or worked around. It was almost like an extra set of laws was being set down, enforced by the individual. In the Shadow's case, the rules were simple, he took it upon himself to enforce the law, or at least those laws he agreed with. In other cases, they were more esoteric. He had heard of a girl that would summon monsters who mutilated anyone who harmed a dog, even when people were just putting down the runt of the litter.

Thus, he was quite happy to have no control over the Shadow. If the man was organized, regulated, then people would fight to control him. Not just the senate, with a little bit of bad luck, the emperor would take an interest.

Sitting in his office, his thoughts went back to an old rumour he had heard.

Witch Hunters, they were called, if they even existed. Supposedly, they were people that hunted down and killed witches. How they did so, the stories differed. Some said that the power of God made them immune to the powers of witches and other such individuals. Others said they were simply witches themselves, and that when their job was done and witchcraft had been eliminated from the continent, they would kill themselves. Another rumour held that they used special tools and weaponry, provided by people like master Wallis to hunt them down. The most outlandish however, was that they cut open their own bodies, in order to change them and grant themselves supernatural abilities in that way.

Roy wasn't sure whether any of the theories were right, or whether they even existed. He'd heard that a previous mayor, about fifty years back, had been contacted by them, but he didn't quite believe it.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to search the archives for a letter from them, would it? Or would that have been the kind of letter that was burned the moment after receiving it? A practice that was good for secrecy, but not so much for book-keeping.


	5. Chapter 4: Young Miss Taylor

**Chapter 4: Young Miss Taylor**  
"So, did you hear about the bees?" Aisha asked.

A warm redness appeared in my cheeks at Aisha's remark.

"I… an old friend might have told me some things about them"

Aisha lit up, and got enthusiastic

"Really? Brian won't tell me anything about, you know, last night."

Last night? Had Brian been doing something like that last night? It had been rather indiscrete of him to allow his young sister to notice things like that. She was a tad young.

"Well, when a man and a woman are in a romance, and they are getting married, then they do this thing where, well, I am not quite sure about the details, but I do believe that this is how women become pregnant."

Aisha started laughing, or rather, cackling. It had a rather unique sound, if I hadn't seen who made it, I'd have thought it was some ancient witch that had made the sound.

"I'm not talking about sex you dolt, I'm talking about the witch that send bugs on everyone last night."

Of course… that did make sense. She hadn't been talking about the birds and the bees, but rather, merely about bees. I felt my swarm react to my shame, and stilled them. It would not be prudent to have them react strangely, observant people might notice something was amiss.

"Ah, yes… the witch…"

"I was just in the market, and everyone was talking about it!"

"Oh, what were they saying?" I was actually rather interested in whether or not they had gotten the message I had been intending to send.

"Well, I heard someone say it was a papal plot, you know, because almost everyone hit was protestant."

"I am assuming these are the same people that also say that the season of winter is a papist plot?"

"Probably yeah, but turns out it's an actual plot, just not a Catholic one."

It had been a plot? This was new to me, I was rather sure I had acted on my own.

"Oh? I had expected it to be a single actor, some new sorcerer making his mark on the city." I lied, changing the gender of the person responsible. It wouldn't do to have Aisha find out that it was I that was responsible.

"Nah, you see, turns out this Jewish man was fighting with this guy, Bradley. Now, Bradley's the guy running the event that got attacked. It is how he makes his money. Now, what better way to take down Bradley than to attack his events with sorcery? It'd make people go to other places instead, to avoid all of the bees."

"So you're saying, as people always do, and as is almost never true, the Jews were responsible."

"No, you see, it goes deeper than that. The Jewish community is actually like a, what's the word… They are not responsible, but they pretend?"

"A scape-goat? You're saying that someone wants everyone to think that the Jews are to blame? Let me guess, you've been talking to that Baker, Henderson, again? Will you now tell me that it was actually a papist plot after all?"

"Nahh, I think it was just a witch or something, who wanted to take down a rival's events, and waited until after Bradleys fight with that Jew."

"From what I've heard, this person wouldn't have had to wait long. Bradley is a rather infamous man."

"So, you hear what else I heard?" she asked again, her eyes glinting with strange pleasure. She enjoyed feeling like she was in the know, privy to knowledge that most people did not have. I had tried to help her by channelling the urge into more academic pursuits, finding knowledge from books rather than gossip, but she did not seem to have the patience to sit down for long stretches of time. I was not quite sure why, was there anything more pleasurable than finding a good book and reading it deep into the night? The rather magnificent lights found throughout the mansion most certainly helped, as well as the extensive library.

"No, I am afraid I am not privy to the knowledge of what you heard."

"Well, I heard, that, after a council meeting, the mayor visited master Wallis."

"Oh, yes, he did, they talked for a bit."

She got enthusiastic again, leaning her lithe frame forward over the table. "So?"

"So what?"

"So, what did they talk about?"

"I do not know, master Wallis requested that I leave the room."

"So, of course, you had your ear to the door, and figured out what they were talking about. Right?"

"Aisha, it would be horribly inappropriate for me to betray master Wallis's trust after all that he has done for me."

She slapped her hand against her forehead, in a rather theatrical fashion, and groaned. "Taylor, sometimes, I have absolutely no idea why we are friends!"

"I do believe that we are friends because you are, technically speaking, my maid."

Her second hand joined the first. "You know what? I'm going to try figure out who was behind all this, you just keep reading or something." She said, moving for the door.

I had to admit, continuing my reading sounded like a rather attractive idea, I was in the middle of a rather engrossing book, the 'Commentarii de Bello Gallico', written by an ancient Roman ruler. It was written in Latin, which I still found difficult to understand, but I was improving steadily.

But this was not the time to do that. My short conversation with Aisha had made it clear that my current strategy would not work. People were simply too panicked about the attack to understand my message. Were I to attack again, they would simply blame whoever they opposed, the Catholics, the Jews, perhaps the Anglicans or the nobility. I required some way to get people to listen to my message, rather than simply panic and strike back.

One option would be to act in a more direct manner. Show myself to the people I was attacking, and tell them which behaviours would no longer be tolerated. They would know who was responsible, and no longer blame invisible enemies.

Or, I could take a more indirect approach; use the more subtle aspects of my abilities. Although I could not quite use the eyes and ears of my miniature vassals, I could feel what they felt, and where they were. Perhaps I could use this ability to find blackmail of some sort. Blackmailing people was a dishonourable practice, but it would be worth it if it meant they would stop torturing the defenceless animals.

But even if I were to force some people to obey me, I could not change everyone in the city that way. Were I to manipulate the Alderman into passing a law against bloodsports of all kinds, they would simply move underground and become harder to root out. Perhaps also become bloodier.

I stood up from the library table at which we had been sitting, and went down towards the basement, and master Wallis's workshop and laboratory.

I entered the room through the open door, and saw master Wallis working on some strange device. I had absolutely no idea what it was, as always.

"Good afternoon Taylor" he greeted me.

"Good afternoon master Wallis" I returned the greeting.

"Taylor, like I have told you a dozen times, you may simply call me Colin."

"Of course Colin."

He looked up from his workbench, and turned towards me, his steely blue eyes looked like they could see straight through everything I said.

"Is it time for supper already? Have I been working for that long?"

"No, although it is quickly approaching. Rather, I had a question, and, I wondered if you would be able to help me with it." I said, getting to the crux of the matter.

He pointed at on the chairs near him, it looked inviting. "Please, sit down and I will see if I can help you with your question."

I walked over, and sat down. The chair was set next to the table on which his writing apparatus was placed.

"I was wondering… If someone wanted to change society, but, society won't listen how do they reach people."

Colin interlaced his fingers, putting on his thinking face.

"Well, that's really two different questions isn't it? The first being how to reach people, the second being how to change their opinions."

"I… I guess so yes."

"Well, on reaching people, the easiest would probably to do as Martin Luther did, create a pamphlet and spread it. If you would like, I could show you how to use the press."

As I had feared, he'd already figured out that the hypothetical person that wanted to change society was me.

"But, that would only help with literate people, would it not?"

"True, and a good point. Whereas the more educated people are able to read, and often capable of changing their opinions through reasoning, the common people often lag behind, set in their ways. Which brings us to the second question, how to convince people. Are you familiar with Aristotle's Rhetoric?"

"I am afraid I am not Colin."

"There's a copy in the library, and I believe I have a Latin translation somewhere which you might wish to read, but the crux of the matter that one can be persuaded in three manners. The first, Ethos, appeals to the authority of the speaker, or in our case, the writer of the pamphlet. By establishing authority, either through reputation, demonstrated mastery, or introduction from a reputable person, people will take your words more seriously. In our case, if you were to make a pamphlet, making it professional is the best way to go about it. If a document looks important, people will treat it with more reverence.

The second type of persuasion is called Pathos, to appeal to the emotions, although I would say that Pathos is actually two categories. The first of these being, quite literally, the emotions. A speech that can stir anger in a crowd, or make them feel sympathetic to a cause. An appeal to fear, for example, often helps people do away with reason. The second half of Pathos is an appeal to the morality and values of the audience.

Then, last but certainly not least, there is the Logos, the word from which logic derives. It deals with the facts of the matter, figures that support the claims of the speakers. To protest a war, one could note the financial costs, or other such things."

"I see. So, if I were to attempt and persuade people to be opposed to, say, dog fighting..."

"You could apply Pathos, and attempt to make people sympathize with the dogs, or appeal to Logos, and show people the damage it does to society."

"And if I wished to reach the illiterate, I could utilize drawings to tell the story."

"Indeed. Adapt your approach to your audience. A letter to a prince must, by necessity, be very different from a message for a farmer."

"Thank you, Colin, for helping me with this problem. Now, I do believe it is about time to prepare for supper."

Colin looked at his arm, on which a miniature clock had been placed inside of a bracelet. "I do believe you are right. I will be joining you in a few minutes, after completing a final weld on this device."

I stood up from the chair, my head swarming with ideas. I could create pamphlets, and use my abilities to distribute them amongst the populace, let the bugs carry them into people's hands. It could very well turn out to be a better approach to the problem than attacking the fights with my insects.

Before I reached the door leading upstairs, Colin called out to me.

"Taylor, is there something you wish to tell me?" He asked.

Did he know? Suspect? I did not know.

"No master Wallis, there is not."

Aisha had not returned in time for supper, and I could see that Brian was agitated while setting the meal on the table. He worried about his sister, even though I was quite sure he could take care of himself.

Instead of sitting down with us, as he usually did, he whispered something in master Wallis's ear. Wallis nodded, and he left the room. It would be just me and Colin today, and I couldn't help but notice how quiet the house was without Aisha.

There were very few servants, housekeeping being made much easier by all the inventions. There was the cook, who prepared food, and his wife, who sometimes helped her husband in the kitchen and kept the house clean, and then there were Brian and Aisha, whose position, I was quite sure, was rather strange. Nominally, Brian was a manservant, but I was quite sure that he was rather more familiar with Colin than was generally appropriate. In the same vein, Aisha was supposed to be my maid, and while she did wake me up in the mornings and got refreshments when I required them, I saw her very much as my friend instead. It was good to have friends again, after what Emma had done. It still pained me to remember her betrayals.

"So, I suppose you have heard about the new sorcerer in town?" Colin said.

"I have, yes."

"What do you think, will he, or she, be a menace, or a boon to the city."

"I am not quite sure." I replied. I wondered what his intentions were. Small talk? It must be.

"I must agree, we must not be too quick to judge."

We ate in silence for a while, the tick-tock of the clock the only sound besides that of spoons scraping on plates. The meal was well-prepared, better than what I had with my father. It still pained me to think of him. We had had our problems together, and his work meant that I was on my own most of the time, an easy victim for Emma and Madison. Still, I had loved him, hearing that he had fallen fighting the flame-witch, I had been in tears, yet proud.

Colin eventually broke the silence. "If you wish, I could place a fine net around your windows, to protect you from the sorcerers attacks."

"I do not think that will be necessary as of now, although I do appreciate the gesture."

A net around my window would mean it would be far more difficult to sneak out without arousing suspicion, and protection from myself was the last thing I would need.

"Very well." He replied.

The silence returned. Some would say that the sound of it was grating, but I disagreed, and so, apparently, did master Wallis. Not every moment needed to be filled with conversation, even if Aisha disagreed with me on that point.

When we were nearly done, I decided to ask a question for Aisha's sake.

"May I ask what the purpose of the mayor's visit was?"

"The sorcerer, or witch, or whatever it is called. He wondered if I had any information he did not."

"Did you?"

"Some, I found out there was a second empowered individual involved, and it was not the shadow. As it is, we seem to have at least three people with unnatural abilities in the city."

So Colin knew about the transforming man, the wolf-man of metal. Strange, how he had figured that out.

"You don't seem very surprised at hearing that." He said.

"I… It seems only logical does it not? That there would be more of them here? Especially if he was hiding his abilities until confronted by the witch involved in the attack on the fighting ring."

"That is true, although there is also, of course, a chance that there is something darker happening."

At that moment, I heard the front door of the house opening, followed by footsteps, and Brian and Aisha entering the room. Brian gestured something to Colin, and Colin rose from the table.

"My apologies Taylor, something seems to have come up."

"It is no problem, really, we were almost done." I replied.

As Colin and Brian left the room, Aisha grabbed a chair, turned it around, and sat on it, leaning forward over the back of the piece of furniture. She started lazily grabbing some food from the table with her fingers.

"So, guess what." She said, making a game out of it. I had my suspicions as to what had happened, give the degree of alarm with which Brian had come to Colin. Something to do with the other unnaturals in the city. Except, besides that, I had nothing to go on.

"What?"

Aisha smiled, eager to share the latest and juiciest gossip she'd acquired.

"There's these guys in town, calling themselves Witch Hunters. There's this big knight, completely clad in metal plate, with this battle-axe that's way too big for normal people to carry. And, there's this lady, who's wearing, like, half a ball-gown dress, half armour, and I saw her snap a big log in half by just moving her finger past it. And also, she had this weird beast on a chain, it was sort of like a person, but orange, and with a tail and red hair and weird feet, and she told people not to touch it, but one person did and suddenly fell over like he was asleep."

I could barely hold all this new information. Witch Hunters, from their name, I could guess at what they were here to do, even though it sounded like they were witches themselves. Did they hold some strange, self-hating ideology? Or were they simply in it for the money? Unnatural strength, slicing things in twain with a touch, and some strange mutant beast-person, it sounded dangerous. Perhaps, it would be prudent not to apply my powers until they had left town again. Surely, without evidence, they would not be able to track me down…


	6. Chapter 5: Witch Hunter Melanie

**Chapter 5: Witch-Hunter Melanie**  
Melanie had always found pride in her ability to do anything to solve a problem. She was a professional, and she would complete any contract she accepted. It didn't matter who she'd have to work with, or who paid her. As long as the target was legitimate, she would hunt it down, kill it, and claim her reward.

This time, the network had sent her to the city of Hamburg, to hunt down whoever was responsible for the attack that had so recently struck. It was a stroke of fortune that she had been so nearby, the tracks that witches left were often rather short-lived, if they left any.

But, before she did any work, she would visit the city's mayor. Just as she finished any job she was paid for, she would do nothing if she wasn't being paid.

In that, she differed from her traveling companions. Behind her, keeping distance out of mutual respect, was the reaper of Moscow. Tall, strong, and capable of regenerating from almost any wound, the man had been a Russian nobleman. Having sustained a deadly stomach wound in battle, he had left the battlefield in fear. Roaming the countryside, eventually he had been found by the Doctor, who had promised him a chance to redeem himself for his cowardice.

The Doctor's marvellous techniques had changed the man, made him stronger and taller, as was visible to all. But she had done something else as well. His heart had been replaced by a device fo the purest science, which nullified all witchcraft in its vicinity.

After this, he had gone to the Tsar's court, and slaughtered his way towards his ruler, eventually killing the warlock that had controlled the throne from the shadows.

Now, he roamed the civilized world as part of the network, rooting out witchcraft where he could find it, specializing in those who controlled and manipulated others.

At her side was something entirely different. A semi-sentient beast, spawned by the mother of monsters. Her Newter had been a gift from the network, payment for work well done. It was inhuman, the vile spawn of a great evil that had been years ago, locked under a mountain somewhere.

As always, the people in this town stopped and gawked when they saw its orange skin. Some praying, others running, even some approaching in what seemed to be fascination.

"Young man, I wish to speak to your mayor, please inform me as to his location." She asked of an onlooker.

The man grumbled, pointing in the direction of the main marketplace. She answered with a quick nod, and tugged on Newter's chain, signalling the creature to follow, before it did something stupid. Some of the children were throwing pebbles at it, it wouldn't do for it to counter and leave the children drooling on the ground.

After a short walk, the three of them reached the mayor's mansion. It was late, past the time for supper, but witches did not respect the silence of the night. To the contrary, it tended to be the period that they were most active.

She grasped the doorknocker and dropped it again. Within half a minute, a maid opened the door.

"Can I help you ma'am?" the woman asked.

"This is Mayor Christner's domicile, is it not? Go fetch your master; I have important things to discuss."

***

"Two-hundred and fifty Marks, that is all I can offer you right now. Please understand, I would be able to offer more after discussing your offer with the Alderman, but…"

"No need, it will do." Alexander replied in his gruff, accented voice. Annoying. Technically, they were equals, but the man was very very bad at haggling, probably due to his rich youth as a noble brat.

"Very well, is there anything else you require?" the man asked.

"Yes, you said that there was some speculation about a targeted attack, Who, exactly, do you believe was being attacked?" Melanie said.

"I wouldn't dare to say I have thought on the motives of plague-bringing witches, but the word in town is that it may have been an attack on mister Meadows, my servant can show you the way to his house." He replied, motioning to a man standing in the corner, who was suddenly looking very panicked.

"Very well, then let us get started." She tugged on Newter's chain. It was looking at the paintings covering the wall, utterly fascinated by the civilized world.

Once outside, Alexander started talking again.

"They seem afraid, more so than usual."

"Of course, I presume the previous attack was responsible for that."

"Previous attack? I thought this was the first strike?"

"A different witch, one who danced in flames. She struck the docks not too long ago."

"I see." The stoic man replied.

It had gotten darker outside, and there was little activity on the street. Swiftly, they made their way to their target. Bradley's house.

Once there, the mayor's servant took his leave.

Melanie steeled herself mentally, putting on her mental mask. She knew how horrible it was, to be attacked by a magic-user without a way to defend yourself, but this called for professionalism, not compassion. She struck the door, and after a minute's wait, a man opened the door. He looked like a brute, powerful muscles covered by scarred tissue. A soldier, a veteran. He looked ill at ease, his eyes shifting between the three of them. The attack had obviously thrown him off balance.

"Bradley Meadows, I presume?" she asked.

"Yeah, what is it?" he answered.

His breath stank of alcohol, the type of stiff that was more riverwater than proper drink. Had he been drinking his worries away? Or was he merely a drunk. From what the mayor had told her, this man had friends in town, both high and low, courtesy of his fighting leagues. Dogs, Cocks, even people.

"They call me Faultline, the witch-hunter. We have come to strike down the evil that has assaulted you last night, and require information on the events."

"Not much to say." The man replied. "We got attacked out of nowhere, bugs crawling out of the windows, the floors and the walls. T'was like a biblical thing."

"Was there anything else? A voice? Someone controlling them?"

"Jan says he heard strange chanting, but me, I didn't see a thing. Reckon its them Jews though. They're always up to no good. Just yesterday, one of them attacked me, a good upstanding citizen, in the middle of the streets."

"The Jews, you say" the gruff voice of Alexander called out. As he approached closer, the man got more and more nervous.

"They're unnatural, not even Christian. Of course they're responsible. Them plagues, Locusts, that's a Jewish thing."

"Yes, that is how they got rid of the Pharaoh, is it not? Perhaps it is not an individual we're looking at, but rather a collective, working on some sort of ritual." Melanie replied.

"Well, I know I had none of them Jews at the gathering when we were attacked."

Melanie thought about it. Was her initial thought wrong? She had encountered groups before. A cult whose leader granted his followers strength, another who granted otherworldly knowledge. It was not much of a stretch to hypothesize that a group of them could channel magical energies.

She decided it was worth a try. Tonight, they would strike at the Jewish quarter, gathering evidence before they had a chance to hide it. With some luck, they would be able to put a stop to these attacks. If she was unsuccessful, if her theory was wrong, well, they were only Jews.

"I see, and will you hold another of your gatherings tonight?"

"I wasn't planning on it." he replied. Fear could be heard in his voice.

"Can you organize one? Lure them out so we may strike at them?"

"I… it'll be difficult, but, I believe that that may be possible, yes. Many people are still sore from last night's attack though, might not get a big crowd.'

"It need not be a big event, as long as the enemy knows about it. Thank you for your offer mister Bradley, you are doing a good thing here."

"I'll get right to it" he replied, closing the door again.

They walked away from the house, leaving the man to do his job. With some luck, they would catch the enemy right in the act. This time, there would be no complaints about excessive violence and death.

"He was afraid of something." Alexander said.

"Of course, he is being targeted by a witch of biblical proportions, fear is only natural, even for a man as fearsome looking as he was."

"That is true…" he replied.

"S'not the witch… s'Alexander" Newter commented.

Faultline gave a sharp pull on the chain, letting the metal of the manacles bite into its flesh a bit. "Silence beast, you will not speak unless spoken to." she replied.

Perhaps the critter had a point, its mind was like a child's and those sometimes saw things that the more experienced did not. It was a possibility, that the man was some sort of warlock that had panicked after feeling the effect of Alexander's engine. However, for the man to attack himself, strike at his own source of income, it wouldn't make any sense. Perhaps if they found nothing in the night's raid, and none of the other possible sources had anything useful to say, they could come back here and double-check.

For now though, they would prepare for tonight's raid. They got ready, waiting in one of the markets close to the Jewish district. With some luck, the man known as the Shadow of Benevolence would find them, and assist them in their assault. By all accounts, he was a good man, using his powers to protect others. It was him, after all, that was said to have defeated the flame witch that had been responsible for the previous attack.


	7. Chapter 6: Young Miss Taylor

**Chapter 6: Young Miss Taylor**  
The bed was soft, far softer than I had ever slept in before Colin took me in. The piping in the walls and floors kept everything warm and comfortable, and the special curtains dimmed all the sounds of the city.

Yet I could not sleep.

Outside of that window, somewhere in the city, there was a group of people aiming to kill me. To hunt me down like an animal. This all because I was being stupid about trying to stop animal cruelty.

Could I really just lie here while people were hunting for me? Or worse, would these witch hunters attack innocents, simply because they didn't know who to fight?

I stood up, unable to get to sleep, and looked behind the loose floorboard beneath which I had hidden the spiderstring rope I used to lower myself down to the ground outside my window. In addition to that, a grey cloak, which would keep me warm and defend me glances from bypassing people. In the end, I also decided to take the small bottled flame Colin had created for me, in case I needed more than just starlight.

Again, I made my way through the alleys of the city, using my multi-limbed soldiers to make sure that I wouldn't run into anyone. It wouldn't do to have anyone know that I was on the streets this late in the evening.

A month ago, no-one would have cared. My father had been a shipwright, and I had merely been one of many children roaming the streets. I hadn't needed to get myself a job, Lustrum had taken care of that, so I mostly roamed around, reading whatever book I could get my hands on, and trying to avoid Emma and her cronies. I hadn't been quite old enough, nor, I had to admit, developed enough, to attract much attention from the other sex either. Even when people saw me, I had been invisible.

These days however… It was not like master Wallis had made some grand announcement, but rumour spread quickly in this city, and I was quite sure that people on the street would know about "That young lady in Wallis's house."

It didn't help that the clothing I wore was generally not that found on a servant, even when compared to the high-quality fabric Aisha wore.

Were people to see me sneaking around now, they would talk about it. Rumours would spread, rumours that would be bad for master Wallis's reputation. It would be untoward of me to behave in such a way.

Still, I couldn't help but wonder what Colin's long term plan for me was. Right now, he was providing me with food, shelter, fine clothes, and what was probably the best library in the vicinity. Life, as hard as it was to live without both my mother and my father, was good. I simply had no idea what the future would hold, and had not asked master Wallis about it so far. Although I had no idea what his plans were, I trusted the man enough not to abuse his power over me. I had some ideas, the type of things a young girl fantasizes about, but I did not consider them very likely.

Most prominent, amongst them, of course, was the idea that he would find some prince somewhere for me to marry. This, of course, was completely preposterous. But a girl could dream, couldn't she? Sure, I did not quite agree with the concept of an absolute monarchy, or the idea of selling a young girl for some worldly advantage, but that was not the point.

Less unlikely, was the idea that he would ask me to marry him in a few years. I had paid attention, and had not noticed his attention being caught by any other women at least. His mind was too focused on his work to have any interest in the fairer sex. Perhaps, in a few years, he would ask for my hand in marriage. If not out of love, then out of some wish for offspring. I had to admit to myself that, although I did not have any romantic feelings for the man, I did have a great amount of respect for him. Becoming his bride would not be a bad fate.

Related to that, was the possibility of him introducing me to one of his colleagues. If I were to marry one of his fellow natural philosophers, my being capable of reading Latin and ancient Greek, and being familiar with all the classics, and a plethora of treatises written in the last hundred years or so, would be a selling point so to speak. Then, after a few meetings, the man would ask the question, and I would move across the continent to some new place that, with some luck, contained a library with even more books to read.

All of these daydreams about the future, however, did not contain my abilities. It was not that I did not like them. Rather, it was that I simply had no idea what a future like that would look like. Would I end up like Lustrum? Roaming the continent on the war-path? Or would I be put down like an animal by dangerous Witch-Hunters, like the trio in the city right now? Or, would I become a symbol, like the Shadow was? Protecting my city, but otherwise having a normal life?

I laughed at an image that popped into my head. Princess Taylor, wife of a handsome prince by day, bug-witch by night. It seemed preposterous, childish, especially since the prince took on the shape of Brian. It was the kind of thing Emma would have mocked me for, ever since she had betrayed me.

Ending my train of thought, I observed my surroundings. There were a lot of people up and about, for this late at night. Were they all simply wandering around, unable to sleep like me? It seemed unlikely.

They also seemed to be noticing me. Perhaps they were being paranoid? So afraid of bugs that they jumped at every housefly, whether I controlled it or not?

I observed for a while, tracking everyone. Most seemed to be going into the same direction. The same warehouse I attacked last night. Another fight, so soon after the last one?

Perhaps they had asked the witch-hunters to guard their event, keep them safe in case of another attack.

But, by all accounts, that is, Aisha's account. These people were professionals. They wouldn't just be standing around; they'd be lying in wait somewhere. If I wanted to do anything, I'd have to find them first, in order not to be caught off guard.

That meant scouting. I wrapped my cloak further around me, keeping warm. Where would I be if I was a bunch of witch-hunters? Rumour was, the Jewish minority in the city was responsible for the attacks, So they'd probably be somewhere between fights and the Jewish district.

After fifteen minutes, I had found them, or, at least, I thought I did. My insect army was acting… strangely around them. The woman, the one in the literal battle-dress, was easy, she swatted at my flies every now and then, but acted much like the other people in town.

The half-human creature she had on a chain however, was rather different. Whenever my insects landed on it, they seemed to simply disappear. They didn't die, not exactly, but they didn't respond at all.

The last person, at least, I assumed it was the last person that Aisha had described, I could not feel at all. There was a sphere, about three rods in radius, in which my bugs completely disappeared. Unlike with the boy-creature, they sometimes flew out of the radius on their own, back into my control.

Did he have the ability to dispel any magical effects around him? It seemed to be the case. How would I fight someone like that if he came after me? Right now, I was quite a distance away. They were on the edge of my range, quite unaware of my current position.

Could I get some of the more dangerous insects, bees and wasps and such, get them agitated, and send them in, hoping they'd attack the man on their own? Possibly. The woman seemed like an easy target, as long as she didn't move into her allies range. That left the tailed creature. Think as I might, I simply did not know how to counter him. Perhaps I could use something similar to the rope I used to sneak out of my chambers? Bind it somehow, by having flying insects entangle it? It seemed complicated, and unlikely to work. It would be better to not have to fight it, simply stay at range, take down the creature's master, and hope it did not find me.

I wondered what they were talking about. They seemed to be discussing something, at least, the woman was talking to the bubble of empty space. I couldn't understand the speech, attempting to use the ears of my insects generally resulted in a headache, but I knew they were talking by how she was standing.

I waited until they did something, trying to look inconspicuous, standing around in an alley. Perhaps simply walking through the street would have been less conspicuous, I simply did not know.

Eventually, they had decided upon something, and moved into action. They were going towards the Jewish district, planning to attack the innocent inhabitants of that area.

I could not let that happen. I could not let innocents get hurt because of my actions. Better to fight them here, than to let them go on with their plan.

I moved the swarm that I had gathered near the plaza where they had been waiting into their path. Upon spotting my swarm, the woman shouted something, and ran into the void. The creature, in the meantime, jumped at my swarm. My soldiers were stunned before they could even begin to attack the thing.

It was time to test my plan. I gathered all of my flying stingers; bees, wasps and mosquitos mostly. I had them attack each other, just a bit, to get them agitated, and send them in all at once.

As they were flying in, the moonlight I was moving by was suddenly extinguished. I looked up, and saw only darkness. The dim lights of torches and lamps had disappeared as well, and it was completely dark.

My hand went for the pocket where I kept the small glass light orb. With a personal source, I could see that the environment was covered by a dome of swirling darkness. I hugged my cloak closer to me, dimly aware of the witch-hunters fighting my swarm several streets over.

Out of the shadows, a figure strode forward. Tall, clad in shining armour and dark leather, it made its way towards me in long, sweeping strides. Tendrils of darkness seeped away from his body. Panicking, I set the bugs in the area at him. How had I not felt him coming?

Of course, he could fly, or at least float.

The insects covered his armour, but did not find any open spot. A few of them started chewing on the leather, but they would not be fast enough to save me from the man.

Within seconds, he stood before me. He raised his metal-clad hand towards my face, and pulled my hood down.

I could hear him take a deep breath upon seeing my face, and he dispelled the darkness immediately around him, leaving the large dome that kept us within near darkness, my lamp being the only light source.

The figure spoke out, in an all too familiar voice.

"In god's name Taylor, what the hell are you doing?"


	8. Chapter 7: Colin Wallis

**Chapter 7: Colin Wallis, Natural Philosopher.**

The slow hum of the environmental stabilizer was just barely audible above him, and the bottled flame was the only source of light in the lab. Thick steel plates covered the walls, protecting the place from intruders and the elements alike, but more importantly, protecting them from the lab.

This was not Colin's Workshop, the place where he built the most wondrous of devices, miracles of science that improved the lives of their users. That was above, in the basement of his small mansion. No, this was his weapons lab, his armoury. This was the place where he forged tools of war. He would speak softly, but just in case, he still had a big stick.

It was also where he made Brian's equipment. The tools and knickknacks that allowed the young man to do what he did.

There were only two entrances to this place. One of them was hidden in his workshop, the other connected to a tunnel, outside of the mansion.

Right now, Colin was putting the finishing touches on his latest upgrade to his Halberd. In addition to its extending blade and its grappling hook, he was adding what was intended to be a nonlethal option. A Grammic charge channelling along the shaft and the head would temporarily overload the targets nervous system, making it impossible for them to properly control their musculature, as well as applying a great amount of pain. The only thing that was still missing was a proper power source. He had some that would work, send to him by colleagues, but they were all rather large, and would require connecting an external battery. It would be rather inefficient, the cabling itself would leak some energy, it would decrease his mobility, it would be a weak target for opponents to strike at.

Smart as they so often were, he could never help but notice that, interesting as it might be, the inventions of people like Gramme, Richter or even Lady Bailey of the moving city, were so incredibly inefficient, too large, consuming more resources than they needed.

A buzzer went off, just audible above the ever-present hum of the systems. After this, he heard a small change in the system, compensating for the addition of external air.

That would be Brian, the Shadow, returning. Hopefully, he'd have found young Taylor. For the second time, the girl had left her bedroom at night, choosing to roam the streets. The last time, he'd only noticed after checking the logs for the system, having found there was a sudden decrease in body-heat to compensate for.

He was almost surprised when he heard two sets of footsteps coming down the tunnel. So his suspicion was correct, the girl had gained powers after all her traumatic experiences. Her leaving her room had not been caused by restlessness or survivor's guilt, but had instead been spurred on by her need to use her abilities. He stood up, readying a set of chairs as Brian and Taylor entered the room.

The girl looked to be in shock, afraid, yet angry at the same time. Brian was standing around stoically, hiding his emotions.

"Brian, Taylor, take a seat." He said, gesturing to the set of chairs.

Brian immediately complied, Taylor was a bit slower on the uptake, first looking around the room. She was wearing a grey fur cloak with a hood. It was enough to protect her from the elements, not enough to protect her identity in the middle of an altercation.

As he sat down himself, he looked at the girl, obviously distraught at the revelations unfolding before her.

"When did it happen?" he asked of her. Had it been the death of her father that unlocked her capabilities? Or some other event he had not known about.

She shrank into herself, the fearfulness he had so often seen in her returning. Had he been wrong about its source? He'd thought it was the shock of losing the last member of her family that had sapped at her confidence. Something that would have been solved by the introduction of a stable environment.

"It was… a few months before… before my dad…"

Brian put his hand on her shoulder in a gesture of support.

"This girl… she used to be my friend, but… after my mom died, something changed. She started taunting me, throwing me into the mud, telling people not to be my friend…"

"I see." He replied. Betrayal from a childhood friend certainly fit the pattern of the way traumatizing events and the attainment of unnatural abilities were usually correlated.

"It happened when she and… she and a few other girls, they…" her eyes were getting wet, and Colin decided to add his support to Brian's.

"It's alright Taylor. It's all behind you now."

"Taylor…" Brian said. "Its… try to remember that you are what you do, not what happens to you. I know it's hard, but you can't let what happened to you control your life. Just leave it behind you, and move on. Either metaphorically, or, you know, by travelling halfway across the world to a different continent." Inserting a grin at the end of it. Taylor had a half-chuckle a Brian's little joke.

"Now, how about you get some sleep, and we'll talk some more in the morning."

"Okay…" she said.

"The door there leads to a staircase that leads to the workshop. I trust you can find your way? You can wake up Aisha if you need some help. She knows about what we do here, if not the specifics of it. You can trust her."

The girl nodded, and started making her way upstairs after a few seconds.

Once she'd left the room and her footsteps were moving further away, he turned back to Brian.

"So, what's the situation?"

"Taylor's the one with the bugs, I'm guessing she heard you complain about the fights and decided to take it upon herself to try and help out with that. She was a bit sloppy, but her range meant no-one but me even suspects her."

"Purely mental control then, I assume? Not some sort of transformation?"

"No, I don't believe so."

"And the Witch-Hunters?"

"I observed them for a bit, Aisha's intel was accurate. The man in armour possesses unnatural strength, and kept himself at a respectful distance from the woman. I suspect some sort of area-effect. Taylor said she had difficulty affecting him. His name's Alexander, and has an eastern European accent. Russian, perhaps, although I cannot be sure.

The woman is German, or well-trained in hiding her accent. She seems to be, at least informally, in charge. She carries herself as a melee-combatant, although she does not seem to carry any armaments. I suspect some sort of contact-based power."

"And the boy?" Colin asked.

"He seems to be intelligent, although the woman tries to suppress it. Behaviour I've seen before. Its far easier to treat someone the way she treats him if you pretend he's subhuman." Brian replied, reflecting on his own past.

"What do you think? Is he one of the people Andino described in his letters?"

"A child of the mother of monsters? I believe so yes. Probably sold soon after his creation, finding himself in the witch-huntress' hands. Intelligent, but seemed to have little experience to back it up."

"Very well." Colin replied. "and their plans?"

"Seem to have been successfully blocked by Taylor's actions, although that might just mean they will ask for reinforcements from whomever send them here. It bothers me that we don't know."

"I agree on that… Very well, it seems that Taylor's mishaps have bought us some time, we should move quickly, if we wish to get to them while they are still of guard, licking their wounds."

"What's the plan? I could go in, but that doesn't solve the larger problem, it'll just set the more paranoid people in the populace against me as well."

"Agreed. Very well, it seems I must take action myself. Can I count on you to have my back if things to awry?"

"Of course." Brian replied, loyal as always.

Colin looked at the halberd, it seemed like he would not have time to finish the internal battery for the Grammic field. An external battery it would be then. Then, protection, an undersuit of specialized fibers, ceramic plates to protect his vitals, a portable boundary generator. Perhaps the gas canister? No, if it came to a fight, it would happen in the city, the danger of innocent casualties was too high.

Something to use at range, perhaps the net cannon? That, and the experimental canisters. He had to be prepared in case the boy decided to attack him, given his poisonous nature.

As a final measure, he grabbed the bottle with the chemical concoction. A stimulant, similar to the body's natural reaction to combat, but far more effective. Bloodlust in a bottle, originally designed by doctor Batson.

An hour later, he found himself in front of city hall. From word on the street, he had gathered that an emergency meeting had been declared, and the aldermen had been called to a meeting. He looked over himself. His cloak did a good job of hiding the layers of armour, and most of his tools were small enough to be hidden. His halberd, folded up, was hidden on his back, beneath the cloak. As long as he did not take it off, no-one needed to know that he was heavily armed. Hopefully, the witch-hunters would agree with his demands. If not, he was prepared.

He did not hold high hopes for a peaceful solution to the problem. People who took up manhunting as a profession tended not to be the most moral of individuals. That said, he could not allow himself to fail here. If he had to kill the both of them, so be it.

He pushed the front door open himself, for there was no attendant beside it. Walking the halls towards the council chamber, he could hear the sounds of discussion. In one movement, he opened the final door.

The mayor, several aldermen, and the witch hunters were present. The first group was split between those who had obviously been woken up in the middle of the night, and people who had still been awake at the late hour. He could guess why.

"Ah, you must be master Wallis then?" the only woman in the room said.

He looked at her, observing the extensive armouring hidden within her battledress. Brian had missed a few hidden armaments, knifes hiding between armour plates and a miniature crossbow in the right sleeve.

"I am, and you are?"

"The name's Melanie, witch hunting is my profession."

"I see, so you are one of the suicidal sort then?" he replied. It was strange, how the empowered so often found some way to tell themselves that they were not like the others. Exceptionalism, massive generalizations applied to everyone but themselves. Perhaps, with some time, he could have helped the woman understand her folly. However, that was not why he had come here.

"Suicidal? No, I know what I am doing, and I can assure you, we are quite successful." She replied. He laughed internally, she was making this so easy.

"Yes, you do seem to have things very much under control. On a completely different note, do you need anything for all those sting marks?"

This time, the man in armour replied. "We have things under control, reinforcements arrive within week. No need to worry." He said in a Russian accent.

"Well, it is good to hear that you've got that problem under control." Colin replied. "That is not, however why I am here."

He turned away from the witch hunters, towards the mayor's seat.

"Mayor Christner, would you be able to enlighten me as to the legality of the matter of slavery? Given the current situation, I am afraid I might have misunderstood the law."

The man looked at him with a worrying glance. Understandable. His first responsibility was to the people of Hamburg, not to some mutated young man he had never seen before. Even though the man's conscience might object, his duty to his people went first.

"Mayor?" he repeated, pressing the issue.

"I do believe that the city of Hamburg does not permit slavery inside its walls, of Christians or otherwise." He replied. An angry expression reached the huntresses face, while the orange boy was looking around with a bewildered look on his face.

"Then, since this young man is inside the city walls, is it not obvious that he is the victim of false imprisonment?"

"Nonsense!" The woman shouted. "It is a beast, not a man! Is the sheep a slave of the shepherd? A dog the slave of its master? You speak nonsense foolish philosopher."

"Nonsense, you say? Very well, if it is nonsense, you would have no problem with a test of its intelligence, would you not? Or are you afraid that, instead of a beast, we will find that it is a man, mutated by magic's beyond its ken?"

The mayor was sweating, unable to bring himself to pick sides. The alderman were discussing things under their breath. It did not matter.

"Look at it you fool, it lacks an umbilicus, it was not born of a woman, and lacks a soul!"

In the corner of his eye, he saw the Russian knight tighten his grip on his battle-axe. A violent act? Or simply intimidation? As far as these people knew, he was just a philosopher and an engineer.

"Your point being?" he asked of the woman.

"It's mind is like a dog, like that of a talking bird. You are an intelligent man, you must understand that animals are below man! Would you have us all eat nothing but bread and drink nothing but water? Unable to eat meat or drink milk? You speak nonsense."

That… was an interesting idea. In a way, the imprisonment of animals was fundamentally unjust. Suffering visited upon them purely for mankind's pleasure. In a perfect world, perhaps there would be no need for such practices. Alas, to proposition such a thing right now, he was already regarded as an eccentric for his views. It would end in ridicule, rather than societal advancement.

"Again, allow me to assuage my conscience, and talk to him in private."

The Russian interjected again, his voice rising in volume. "And lose our protection against the ongoing witchcraft? Do not be a fool, philosopher, you know nothing of battle and we are at war!

"ORDER, I will have ORDER." The mayor shouted, silencing the room. The man was angry, frustrated at the loss of control, the change of topic in the conversation. Torn between his conscience and his duty to his people. Colin did not envy the man's position.

"We will table this discussion until AFTER the crisis has been dealt with." The man said. Trying to find a compromise.

"And when will that be?" Colin replied. "In a week? When their reinforcements arrive? Or in a month, when they have not found a trace of their invisible opponent? It is easy for you to say that Roy, you are not the one that is naked and in chains, pulled around like a rabid dog."

"Silence! Master Wallis, you will not disrespect me any further in MY council meeting."

Perhaps he had gone too far, calling the man by his given name, but the man's behaviour annoyed him. Most everyone in the room knew that he was right, but they were too afraid to do something about it.

He turned to the Russian man. "And you, sir knight? Will you stand by while an innocent is kept as a slave? Have you not sworn vows of honour?"

The man turned to him, hands on his weapon. A furious expression. Colin got the distinct impression that he should not have said what he had said.

"You insult my honour, philosopher?" the man asked, the question completely rhetorical.

Colin turned around, no good would come of this meeting, and to break the mayor's rule, that the discussion would be tabled until after the crisis had been resolved, would be seen as reasonable in the people's eyes, not something he could break without greatly damaging his reputation, and with that his capability to act. Christner had won, for now. Perhaps he could create a new plan, help Taylor defeat the witch hunters in more permanent manner, ending the battle between witch and witch hunter that way.

Before passing through the door, he could not help but leave one last biting remark, get in the last word against these reprehensible people. Christner might have beaten him, but they most certainly had not.

"I did not insult your honour, for there was nothing to insult."

Again, he quickly realized that honour had been a very sore point for the man. This time, it was not a tight grip on the battle-axe. This time, it was a chair flying at him. He turned around, barely dodging the flying piece of furniture, only to see the knight charging at him.

Dimly, he could hear people shouting and screaming, the mayor hammering his desk for order, it didn't matter. He threw of his cloak, and grabbed his halberd with one hand, unfolding it. With the other, he quickly downed the stimulant.

Before his eyes, time seemed to slow down. Slowly, step by step, he saw the Russian getting closer, through the helmet, he could spot the man's eyes, slowly widening in surprise as he saw the Halberd unfolding. In one corner of his eye, he could see the huntress trying to send her slave at him, the young man trying to protest, but too afraid to really resist. On the other side of the room, he saw that some people had started to flee the room.

Another footstep from the Russian, and his Halberd fully unfolded. He readied it, preparing to intercept the man as he came closer.

Another step, he saw the woman starting to grab something from her jacket, a knife, or some other weapon. The strides of the knight were long and graceful, carrying him great distances. Most definitely an enhanced physique. It would not be enough, no matter how strong the knight was, Colin was faster, smarter, he had better equipment.

Suddenly, the world sped up again, and he could only barely sidestep the brute. His Halberd got caught on the man's armour, almost getting ripped out of Colin's hands. Quickly, he switched the device to its grappling modus, a length of chain extending between them as the mad charge carried the man further past Colin's location. After another second, the world slowed back down.

A nullification field of some sort then. He would have to send a letter to Batson, informing of the weakness in the formula, and asking about the principles behind it.

He took a quick glance behind him. The woman had a weapon now, and was getting into position. The boy was still resistant, standing at her side. The woman said something, but he could not quite understand it under the sound of blood rushing through his veins.

He activated the mechanism on his Halberd just when the knight had come to a halt. The chain started reeling in, making the head of the Halberd cut into the knights armour, and pulling the two of them together. Prepared for this, Colin readied his leg, his boots were made of enhanced steel, with retractable spikes for grip on walls and other inclines. They would do here.

Then, he saw the man do the same thing with his Axe, getting ready to smack it into him. Quickly, still at a great enough distance for the formula to work, Colin grabbed the net launcher, aiming to entangle the weapon. Less than a heartbeat after launching the net, the world sped up again, and he felt his leg crashing into the man's stomach, through his armour, while the Axe was tangled up in the net.

Before the knight could react, he called the head of his halberd back. He had no time to lose, no time to think without the combat drug. Deciding he could not afford to think of a better plan, he struck with all his strength at one of the man's legs, severing it at the knee.

Just in time, as he felt a knife embed itself into the armour on his back. He dashed out of the knight's nullification field, and saw time flow down again. Deftly, he dodged the next knife, sidestepping it with ease. He rushed forward, seeing the woman react. She did something with the chain she had, and he saw Grammic sparks where the chain met the boy's skin. Then, she threw the chain on the ground, all the while running away. The boy rushed at him, spurred on by the sparks. Unlike the nullification field, he had come prepared for this, he grabbed the canister, activating it, and throwing it at the boy. Quickly, white-yellowish foam came out and started covering the boy. It wouldn't hurt him, but it would incapacitate him. Hopefully, its insulating nature would protect the boy from the Grammic charges coming from the chain.

He dashed past the boy, at the huntress. The woman was kneeling, doing something to the floor with her fingers. As he ran at her, the floor started slowly collapsing. The woman had somehow cut through the supports holding up the building, and he could see the ground beneath him start sinking into the basement.

He made one final jump, trying to get at the woman with his halberd before he could no longer reach her. Striking out, he activated the Grammic field. The woman moved her finger to intercept, slicing right through the steel of his weapon, but she still got shocked by the charge. He held out his hand, and hung himself on the remaining edge of the floor, the area behind him having fallen down. Before he could pull himself up, he suddenly fell down. A secondary cut by the woman.

He looked around, finding himself in the basement with the foamed up teenager. Above him, he heard the huntress moving, and eventually saw what she had been doing. The roof of the council hall had started collapsing.

He eyed the falling rocks, and dashed for the boy. Several seconds before the roof started fully collapsing, he was able to deploy the hard-light barrier, defending them from the falling building.

Cowering beneath the shield, he went over the encounter. The mayor and the alderman had escaped, as had the huntress. The knight was immobilized and wounded, probably caught up in the collapse.

The entire thing had been a mess, caused by his own damnable tongue, always saying the wrong things. Still, he'd rescued the young man for now. Things could have gone worse.

After a few minutes, darkness penetrated into the bubble of air, smothering out all light and sound. He started counting. After roughly a thousand seconds, he saw the darkness disappear, and Brian standing there with a mechanical gauntlet, holding up some of the rubble.

"You just had to keep all the fun to yourself huh?"


	9. Chapter 8: Princess Sarah of Denmark

**Chapter 8: Princess Sarah of Denmark.**

All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players; they have their exits and their entrances. That, at least, was what the famed English playwright, William Shakespeare, said.

My brother Reginald? He disagreed. One day, we were reading Sonnets together, the next, he died

My father claims it was a foreign assassin that did the deed. The servants are convinced witchcraft was at play, and the foreigners believe father had him killed on purpose. They are all wrong.

My brother had gotten sick of acting. The problem was not that he disliked his role, the problem was that he had no choice in the matter. He was the prince, and he would act as such. Had he abandoned his role, the story of the play of life would have changed to fit. The playwright that is god would have foreseen it already, and the notion of free will was an illusion.

So he had left the stage, throwing the book at the playwright, leaving me behind not knowing why.

But I digress. When talking to an audience that is purely a metaphor in one's own head, one should take care to properly introduce oneself. After all, you did not exist before I thought you up.

My name is Sarah. I can already hear you ask, "Just Sarah? Is this some bawdy show about a peasant girl?"

I assure you, it is not. I am called Sarah because I need no further introduction. Sure, I have a family name, but very few bother using it. For I am Sarah, princess of Denmark, daughter of King Christian IV of Denmark and Anne Catherine of Brandenburg. I have three sisters and three brothers. Or rather, I had three brothers, only two remain. One month ago, the understudy took over for Reginald, playing the role of heir apparent.

As seventh child of the king, and a daughter, my role in the stage we call the world is simple. I obey my mother, I act in accordance with my father's wishes, and I marry whosoever my father deems best for the country. Whether he is a foreign noble, or some empowered individual that my father wishes to secure the services of.

So why, then, had my dear brother decided to leave me behind, leaving only his books for me to find?

For weeks, I looked through his papers, trying to find out what had happened. The world was a stage, a play for the entertainment of some almighty being. A farce, a lie in which the suffering was all too real. Yet even death did not free us from the chains of the cosmic playwright, for god would have foreseen it anyway. Why had my brother thought it was an answer?

I guess I don't need to explain the next part, after all, it was you guys, the audience, that had started talking to me. Reading me the script, explaining what was to come, what motivated whom. Yet for all my knowledge, I was still powerless to act. I, much like everyone else, had a role to play in life, and mine did not include acting on voices in my head. Sorry audience.

Which brings us to the current moment, in the current day. I had spent my day reading in the gardens, when the servants had accosted me. Immediately, I knew what would occur. They would get me properly dressed, in preparation for an official dinner. At that dinner, father would have invited some important young man. My role, then, would be to act every part the charming young princess, only to quickly find out that he preferred one of my older sisters, who were playing a similar part. Eventually, their true nature would shine through, the young man would find himself rebuked, and the whole play started over again. This was how it always happened, except of course for when Hilda married king Gustav of Sweden, securing peace in the North.

The servants that were helping me get dressed for the play, were also merely playing their part, as was were the girls messing with my hair.

The role of my ladies-in-waiting was slightly more complicated. They were to offer me companionship and assistance, but their role was also to secure political favours for their families.

So then, voices in my head, what say you of this dress?

I must admit, it is a beautiful red and white piece, perhaps a bit sparse at the neck and collarbones. The question was, who was it for. And now, we get to the pesky part. For you are an audience watching for the first time, and do not possess knowledge of the future you can tell me. Instead, we must analyse what we have already seen, must we not? The solution, then, is simply to ask another character in our play.

"So then, who is the honoured guest at tonight's dinner?" I asked, looking at one of my ladies-in-waiting, the one that was in charge of keeping my schedule. She was some important duke's niece, and, as you have told me, she was given this position as a favour to her mother, who had once been the secret lover of one of my father's nephews. We are quite good at ferreting out people's secrets, are we not? Metaphorical voice in my head? Too bad too much of this nonsense makes my head hurt. Alas, even the best audience gets tired.

"A minor Prussian nobleman by the name of Richard Anders, and his son, Maxwell, your highness."

"I see. Tell me, is he at least attractive?"

What is that, little voice in my head? Why yes, I agree, it is rather suspicious that the servants suddenly stopped for a second as the subject of the Anders family was breached. Perhaps there was indeed something there. Perhaps, also, I should lay off on the metaphor. Perhaps also not. It is an entertaining game to play.

I looked around the room, listening intently to the little voice in my head that told me what I needed to know. My ladies-in-waiting, three noblewomen of high birth, were standing to my right. Dorothea kept my schedule, making sure we went from scene to scene just as planned. Sophie had taken it upon herself to know who's who, it would be embarrassing to forget an actor's name, even is so many of them are seemingly irrelevant. Elisabeth was less useful, although she had taken it upon herself to properly instruct the servants in their role.

It would be a mistake to say that they played their role for me, they had their own roles, their own fathers to obey. The same could be said for the servant placing jewels in my hair. She reported to someone else, who reported to someone else, ad infinitum.

Katherine, however, was a different story. She was mine, and mine alone. A lie, but a comfortable one. She too, was ultimately instructed by my father. However, she had been assigned the role of obeying my every command, as long as she remained near me.

If everyone was but an actor playing a role, Katherine was a star actress that had somehow ended up playing a background character, a character that didn't even have a real name, servant number #12 or something like that.

Her body was thin and lean, and she was wearing simple white clothes. I had seen her leap buildings and punch through solid steel. She had the ability to strengthen parts of her body, making them invulnerable, and striking with increased strength. I was also quite sure that her reflexes were far beyond those of mortal men.

She had been roaming the streets of Copenhagen when an individual calling himself the Overman had informed my father of her existence. My father had promptly offered her a new role in the play of life. She was my maid, my protector, and more importantly, my friend. Best of all, she had not yet adapted to her role, cursing like a street-child would. It was a wonderful helping of honesty in a world of lies.

Eventually, Elisabeth decided to break the silence created by my question.

"Well, he has brilliant blue eyes, and a strong jaw, he's really quite attractive for a thirty-five year old your highness."

"Thirty-five, and this Richard is already through his first wife?" I could not help but wonder what kind of role this man was playing.

"Forgive me your highness, I was talking about the son, Maxwell."

I struggled to understand my father's thoughts. A thirty-five year old without wealth or land to call his own, from Prussia no less. Were the insights of the voices wrong? Is this Maxwell not a prospective suitor? Or does he have supernatural abilities? those did not seem to be picky about who they chose to empower, perhaps Lord Anders had simply gotten lucky, and gained a powerful ability in addition to his birth right.

I could see Katherine biting her lips, quite obviously trying to hold back a remark that was not fit for polite company, much less for the ears of a princess.

"Very well, Dorothea, how long until dinner?"

Dorothea quickly gazed at the large standing clock, calculating how long it would take for the next scene to start. "About three-quarters of an hour."

Finally, it seemed that the servants were ready with my dress, the girl doing my hair having finished as well. Costume changes… such a bother.

"Mirror" I said, holding out my hand. One of the servants quickly fulfilled my request and I looked at myself, trying to figure out what role my parents wanted me to play.

Usually, when a possible suitor came around, either noble or powered, my mother made me dress demurely, like a proper lady. Shy, well-mannered and well-educated. My older sisters, the unmarried ones at least, were usually given the sluttier roles.

Today, however, this was evidently not the case. Maybe it was because Hilda had gotten married to the king of Sweden, and her role in this play had opened up, but it seemed far more likely that she simply had a very low opinion of whoever she was trying to impress. My entire neck was bare but for a single necklace, and the bare skin continued downward much further than was proper.

My role in this play was clear. I was to behave myself, to try and impress Maxwell Anders, and to attempt to win a powerful ally for Denmark.

My dark blonde hair was done up in the usual fashion, bejewelled clasps holding it in place, and the tiredness around my eyes had been hidden skilfully. It had been hard to sleep with the pounding headaches that followed me around these days. Thank you for those, audience.

While I was looking at myself, Sophie and Dorothea were gossiping about something irrelevant, trouble in the south, catholic complaints, the usual. There was not much to it at all. Elisabeth was humming to herself, content with where she was right now. Most of the servants had left the room, their role was over for now. The only maid remaining was Katherine. Perhaps, it was time to ask her about this Maxwell person.

"Katherine, do you happen to know anything about these visitors?"

The girl remained silent, looking at the three ladies-in-waiting.

What's that audience? Is she signalling that it wouldn't be proper to talk with them in the room? No shit, you can be so useful sometimes. I should forget about you, then you will disappear, since you exist only in my mind.

I turned to my noble companions. "A moment?" Slightly insulted, the trio left the room. Not too insulted, after all, I was the only reason they even had a role here, but insulted nonetheless. Once they'd left the room, I turned towards my Katherine with a questioning gaze.

"They make metal, and lots of it, strong steel, from what I heard. Thing is, they're fucking assholes. Maxwell, he's got two children, both bastards. Mother of the youngest is right here in the fucking town with him."

I sighed. Was this the role I would play? Young wife of a womanizing idiot that couldn't keep his dick in his breeches for a week? I'd have to watch out at dinner, Katherine's tongue was infectious, and did not quite fit my role.

"So my father wants to trade me to a savage for economic and military profit, and I'm dressed like this to drive down the price…"

'Your highness?" Katherine asked.

"Yes? Speak freely Katherine, it is only the two of us." And you of course, my audience. But let us keep that a secret, or Katherine will think me crazy. She won't say anything, but she'll think it, and we'll both know it.

"I don't see the fucking problem, just act like a bitch and make sure he doesn't want to marry you. Just tell him he's a fucking asshole and he'll want nothing to do with you."

"Katherine… I know you mean well, but… it is not that simple. Father wants me on my best behaviour, mother wishes for me to try and charm the man. The fate of Denmark may lie in the balance. It is my duty…" I exclaimed. I had a role to fulfil in life. I wasn't my brother, I wouldn't simply quit in the middle of the play, would I? Anyway, scene end.

Dinner was, as it was so often, a horrid affair. Watching your food is a horrible prospect if your imaginary audience keeps telling you everything that's wrong with it. Still, it was preferable to looking around me. Maxwell was talking to one of my sisters, Hedevig, telling her about the time he travelled to Africa, where he had fought the black-skinned savages as he called them. He spoke of piercing their skin with metal blades, and fighting off attacks from savage barbarians who knew nothing about civilization, and understood only war. My sister looked like she was engrossed in the story. She had always been a good actress, lying trough her teeth every moment of every day.

What little Max had forgotten to say, of course, was how he'd started the fights by enslaving a fishing village, killing all who resisted and raping the women. It was only logical that the natives had replied with violence, but Lord Anders wished to blame it on their skin. It was a bad excuse, and he knew it, but many people believed such things, and he obviously knew how to use these misgivings.

The other visitor, the even older Lord Richard Anders, was not interested in my sisters. No, I would not be so lucky. I could feel the gaze of the old man moving across my Décolletage, undressing me with his eyes. And let me tell you, it doesn't help to have you inform me of exactly what he wishes to do with me. The man was at least four times my age, and had had two different wives in the past. So please, voice in my head, tell me that they died naturally.

My mother was observing, looking at Maxwell and Hedevig, then at Richard. Father was talking to one of his special generals, a twenty-something man named Ryan Murray, promoted to the top not only for his power, but also for the way the common soldiers seemed to love him. He created spheres that dragged things into them, and used them to toss people and objects around. Sadly, his character was not one that needed a marriage to be drawn to our side. Marrying him would not have been a bad role to play.

I had noticed that my glass had remained well-filled, and looked around. I saw Katherine there, carrying a pitcher of wine, smiling a secret smile at me. Unlike the ladies-in-waiting that had been assigned to me for political reasons, I was actually starting to like her. Glancing around the great hall, I could see the ladies sitting somewhere else, at a less important table. They didn't bother to even glance at me. But for Katherine, I was alone in this role.

Eventually, the final course of the meal was done with. I looked at Hedevig. Sadly, her conversation with Maxwell had gone sour. Perhaps she had simply disliked him too much to keep up the act, but with my luck, she had seen the old man's behaviour and decided to have someone else bear the burden today.

Alas, Richard had not yet decided to speak to me, meal was over, something that, usually, meant I had successfully avoided my next role for another month or so.

But today's play was not like the others, today, there would be an extra scene.

"Lord Anders, shall we retire for a game of chess?" my father said. Not, in and of itself, a suspicious move. He had not had a chance to talk with his guest during the meal, and it was only logical to wish to spend time with foreign visitors, was it not?

"Of course, your highness, although I must warn you, I am quite skilled at the game." Richard replied. Why yes, he was utterly self-assured in his role wasn't he? Worse, he had reason to be.

"Skilled, you say? Then you should try playing my daughter."

Ah, here it came, father's little ploy to make the man fall further in love with me. Or perhaps merely to make him lust after me, both would serve his cause.

"Sarah, will you join us?" he asked. It was not a question.

I could already see the next scene. I would play chess with the old man, or at least sit right in front of him, while my father discussed politics. Then, the topic of alliances and loyalties would come up. He would steer the conversation towards ways to seal the deal on such an alliance, and oh look, an eligible young lady right there in the room! Of course, he couldn't have his dear daughter move all the way to Prussia, so if he gave the man some land in Denmark, maybe he could live there instead? Perhaps help a bit with the natural lack of resources on our little collection of sand-dunes?

"Yes father, of course, that would be delightful" I answered. After all, my role was that of the dutiful princess. I stood up, steadying myself with a hand on the table. Good old Katherine, helping me get too drunk to remember the coming scene.

As I stood up, my father took my hand, steadying me, and we left the room together with lord Anders, followed by several servants, including Katherine, who was still carrying her wonderful pitcher.

Father's private leisure room was rather interesting to behold. It was located in the middle of the palace, without windows to the outside, but a glass ball hanging from the ceiling lit it up.

What's that audience? A Grammic current was creating all that light? How very useful, that was exactly what I needed to know here. Now be quiet, or you're going to give me another headache, in addition to my incoming hangover.

The last time I had been in this room, had been four years ago, when I had been twelve. My father had shown me one of his most recent purchases, the mechanical Turk, a mechanical device that could play chess on its own, created by a man called Andrew Richter. It had been a difficult opponent, but then again, I had been twelve.

Since I'd last played in a scene set here, he had added quite a few props. A table for billiards, game tables from the orient and some sort of device with a horn on it. What's that audience? Did that thing play music without a musician present? Oh my, thank you for telling me, how very useful!

While a servant was setting up the chess-board, father started speaking with Anders about the topic of religion, and our glorious playwright in the sky.

Although it was mostly the split between Catholics and Protestants, not about the futility of making choices in a preordained world. Not too long ago, the Holy Roman Emperor had been assassinated I still remembered how shocked father had been after hearing of it. An assassin called Lustrum, leading a group of revolutionaries, had slaughtered him within a month of his coronation.

Ferdinand had been a devout catholic, and had made some rather harsh statements towards protestants. Thus, as my father was explaining, many Catholics, including the new emperor, the old emperor's brother, blamed Protestantism for Lustrum's action.

Wait, did I say that the discussion was about religion? Scratch that, it was basic us and them thinking, the religious argument was largely irrelevant.

"So, if the emperor were to make good on his threats, and attempt to outlaw Protestantism in the empire, what would you do, your highness?" Anders asked.

"A difficult question. After all, my first duty is to the people in my borders. It would not be easy to endanger them for the sake of another."

"Yet there is no guarantee that the Catholics will stop at the empire."

"True, of course. But as you know, war these days is far from a sure thing. The wrong individual in the right place…"

"I see what you mean, and I must agree, after all, what good is an army if it can be taken down in a single move." Anders said. How subtle, informing my father of the fact that he believed he could take down an army on his own. Sure, he believed it, but that didn't automatically mean it was true. Alas, my audience cannot help me know things I have no knowledge about. It can, however, inform me that I was drinking a very good vintage indeed.

I sat down in one of the chairs standing next to the chess-board. It did not matter to my role whether I stood or sat, so I might as well give my wobble legs some reprieve, right? Anders sure agreed, as he sat down on the opposite side of the board.

"Well then, it is only proper that the lady chooses sides, is it not?"

How lovely, he was pretending to be a real gentleman. I turned the board around, giving him the favoured position. "I must say you do look like man who prefers white, do you not?"

He chuckled. Great job drunk Sarah, now he likes you for your mind as well.

He made the first move, and I countered. I'd always found chess fun, and I have to admit, it is even more fun if there's a voice in your head telling you all the best moves.

So, voice in my head, the real question is, can you also get drunk? Or is that just me?

Anders was indeed quite a capable player, had I not had a little voice telling me what his plans were, he might have won. Had I been sober, however, he would not have stood a chance.

I looked at my glass, then back at Katherine. She smiled at me, did she have some sort of plan? Why yes, of course she did. Now, what would her plan be? Perhaps, yes, perhaps her plan would be to give me more wine. It was a good plan.

She refilled my glass with the wonderful red liquid, and I continued listening in on my father's conversation.

"You have heard the news about King Sigismund, yes?" father asked.

"The Polish monarch? I don't believe so, I tend not to be overly interested in the affairs of Catholics."

"The man has remarried, again."

"Another sister? Or something original this time."

Sister… sister… Ah, yes, of course, after his first wife died, the man had married his wife's younger sister, trading her in for a newer model. I wondered what he'd gotten himself this time. Luckily, I hadn't been worried that father had married me to him, for the man was Catholic.

"Not a sister, but a girl, roughly Sarah's age. Goes by the name of Victoria. I have been informed that she brought her extended family, most of whom have abilities."

Subtle father, subtle. The obvious suggestion here being, of course, that Richard should also bring his entire family over after marrying me.

"Oh, interesting, gearing up for war, is he?"

"If so, I am happy to have some distance between us."

The conversation went on like that for a bit, entirely transparent in its purpose. I had Katherine refill my glass, and Richard asked me for a rematch. I obliged, and found him a much more difficult opponent this time. Had he been play-acting at being merely above average? Please do tell me audience, this is the kind of stuff I need to know if I am to remain in character.

What is that, audience? Do you think my mental faculties are being impaired? Well, I beg to disagree, my mental faculties are just fine. It is simply that he is cheating, playing with two different kings on the same board.

Slowly, I felt something moving in my stomach. Annoying… I'd have to remove it. To the ladies room it was, then. I stood up, almost falling over, when…

I looked at the board, now covered in the contents of my stomach, some of if had gotten on Richard's clothes. I wondered why I wasn't lying on the floor, had I not started falling down? Ah, yes, the warm arms of Katherine held me up at the shoulders. She was rather good at her role, had I said that already.

"Your Majesty, I apologize" Katherine said, all the while trying to help me up. "It seems that the wine had not been as watered as I had expected."

I could see Dick fussing over his clothes. Had puking on his favourite outfit been enough? I had not even been my plan to do so.

Father walked forward and held a hand to my face. It felt warm and nice. "Bring her to her bed, and make sure she has plenty to drink." He said. Ever the caring man. Mostly in the way that a farmer cared about his livestock, but also because he loved me. He played a good father.

Then, Richard spoke up. "Princess Sarah, if you have recovered by then, I would love to have luncheon with you tomorrow. Perhaps we can finish our rematch?"

I saw my father beginning to smile, happy that his plan had worked. He believed he had found a new role for his daughter, as wife of a mighty metal man. I forced my face into a soft smile, and resumed my role. "Of course, Lord Anders, it would be a pleasure."

As Katherine guided me back to my room, I felt a touch of despair come over me. Once there, she helped me out of my clothes, and undid whatever had been done with my hair, all the time feeding me water to drink.

"Sorry bout that… Guess it wasn't enough for a fucker like that huh…"she said.

The roof of my bed started moving, and I couldn't help but laugh. "Katherine… that's no way to talk about my future husband…" I said.

She didn't reply, and I laid there for a while, catatonic. The man must have been sixty, perhaps older. Was my role truly to marry this man? To procreate with someone that could have been my grandfather? Would he make his son call me mother?

I was dimly aware of Katherine crawling into my bed, keeping an eye on me. Probably because father instructed her to. It wasn't her fault, she was simply playing the role assigned to her. We all were, even father, even Anders.

Could I do what Reginald had done? Take myself out of the play in a final act of defiance? I did not want to marry the old man, but did I want to die? For hours, I was lying there, awake yet too dazed to move.

Or, perhaps, could I play the same role in a different play? Follow the example of Shakespeare's characters, defy my duty? That, in itself, was an important role, was it not? A good princess, an obedient one, was hidden in the background. A naughty one, one that ran away from home, she could be a main character. And what was better than a main character getting advice from her metaphorical audience?

I sat up, noticing that more of the alcohol had left my body. Loyal little Katherine was still sleeping, ready to protect me from all danger. Would she attempt to rescue me from myself? Better not to find out, better to hope she did not wake up. It would be easy, with the audience telling me when she was about to wake up.

I snuck through my room, gathering the few things I truly loved. A small portrait of my brother, the first necklace my mother had given me, a Swedish purse from my sister that I had filled with coins when I could. I grabbed a warm cloak and a pair of shoes, and snuck out of the door, through the palace. Avoiding all who could see me. Slowly, drunkenness was replaced by tiredness and an oncoming headache. Eventually, sneaking between guards and under a leaving cart, I had found my way outside. Copenhagen now lay before me, with all its beauty. In the early morning light, I could see people moving around, and the audience whispered to me what they were doing.

I stepped forward, taking onto myself a brand new role, one that I had chosen for myself. I could not write god's script, but I could choose my role.

The city, I quickly found, was not as beautiful as it had been when I had observed it from my carriage. There was excrement (equine) everywhere, in addition to more excrement ( canine) and finally a small helping of excrement (human). I closed the curtain, shutting out the audience to save myself from a headache, as I explored around. I would have to find some way to secure myself passage out of the city, or father would surely find me within the week. People knew what I looked like, and there were several paintings of me that could be used to inform people. Worst of all, unlike some people, my face did not require liberal reinterpretation to look good on canvas, the paintings would actually be useful.

I closed my nose, walking through a street filled with people doing the foulest of things. Or perhaps simple the things that smelled foulest. It was hard to say for certain with the curtains closed.

Trying to escape the crowd of peasants that had started appearing on the early morning streets, I turned into an alley, only to hear a familiar pair of footsteps behind me.

"Really, Sarah? You're running away, in that fucking outfit? Seriously, those shoes will break within the day if you actually use them for something." Katherine said. I turned around, and saw her standing there with a goofy smile on her face. She was carrying a pack filled with clothes, and held a pair of leather travelling shoes out for me with her free hand.

"I… Katherine…"

"What? I swore a fucking oath to keep you safe, I didn't swear an oath to inform your father of your location at all times, or to let you get raped by some German grandpa."

I laughed, and felt a real smile reach my face, one that wasn't forced, not part of the role I had to play, for the first time since Reginald had died. 


	10. Interlude: Roanoke Colony

Edward still could not quite believe that, only yesterday, he had been at home with his wife and children.

But then, he could not quite believe that he was now living in New Albion either.

Nor could he believe that a people so seemingly primitive had set up this meeting.

It all came back, he thought, to Columbus's fateful encounter. A man, standing on the air itself, had overlooked his return journey. The man had thought it a blessing from god, and when they arrived back in Europe, one of his men had gained the capacity for flight himself, flapping his arms and soaring through the skies.

Columbus had thought it providence, a blessing from god, and had immediately been granted the funds for further expeditions to the new world. He had set out to conquer the locals and found a colony. For an entire day, he was successful. His small army had overtaken a local village, killing the men and taking the women for themselves.

After that, things became less clear, for only a single ship returned. From what was known, however, it quickly became clear that magical prowess did not discriminate. Something had happened, and almost the entire expedition had been slaughtered, including its leader. After that, the Spanish had become far more cautious, funding only a small number of expeditions over the years, most failing.

The English colony at Roanoke, however, had been successful, due to cooperation and trade with the locals. Quickly, it had grown larger and larger, attracting both colonists and native inhabitants. This increased growth and wealth had meant that, six years ago, King James had sent one of his most capable people, the Moorish Thomas Calvert, as a governor. To Edward had fallen the duty of protecting the man. Something which would be a lot easier if he had known what exactly the man could do. So far, he had shown no sign of powers but for the silhouette behind him.

Now, halfway across the world, he missed his allies, the other knights of the round table, as well as their leader, Merlin. Unlike most politically active organizations of its kind, the knights identified themselves by a description, rather than their name. Even though, in many cases, their names were quite well known. He himself was known as The Relentless. Then there was The Aegis, their newest member, who perpetually found himself in conflict with The Bastion. Of course, The Crusader and The Hammer were not to be forgotten, both powerful warriors, for different reasons. And then, of course, there were the twins, the only female members of their group, who had, to differentiate themselves from the meek womenfolk of modern day England, named themselves after Viking myths. Edward's wife had been very displeased indeed when she heard about their induction into the order.

Today, however, he was alone. Or rather, he was alone in the crowd, the only white man who had ever come this far west. The great gathering place looked out over a lake so massive it could have been called a sea. All around him stood men, and sometimes women, of the different peoples of the northern continent. He only recognized a few of them. There was the chieftain of the nearby tribes, Manteo, the only man he could really speak to here, as it was the only man that spoke English. He also recognized the young girl that had allowed for their quick travel, Wachíchihé, or something similar, he had heard her called. She was from a group of people called the Lakota. Her name, Manteo had told him, meant something like "jumps-over-mountains", something he could very well believe from the way the child had folded their path until very little distance remained. Behind the young girl, he could "see" abstract ideas, loneliness perhaps, homesickness for her people.. Perhaps he could ask her to assist in easing travel back to the homeland. Then again, depending on how this meeting went, that could become exactly what they did not want to happen.

He also recognized Thasunke Witko, again, a name he knew he had botched, better known as Crazy Horse. This was not someone he knew for his magic, no, this was someone he knew for his military strategy and prowess, and this was also the reason he had been invited here.

He looked around more, and recognized a woman he knew by the name of Charging Bear, or Setimika. If he remembered correctly, she was from the Miwok people. Around her, ghostly bears walked around. Behind her, he saw the shadow of bear that was far more real.

He scanned further, but could barely recognize the different tribes present, let alone people within them.

"They're beginning" Manteo said, guiding him towards his location.

The meeting was massive, and involved disputes large and small. Most of those, he knew, would later be worked out, being mentioned for a few seconds simply to let people know what was going on. Manteo translated some things for him, but the plethora of languages sometimes made it hard for the man to understand, let alone translate.

Eventually, the main topic was breached. The war in the south. Crazy Horse, commander of the allied legion, spoke about battles against the blood-lord's armies, and great victories against overwhelming odds. The losses, Edward knew, would quietly be ignored for now. This was not the time for minutia.

It was strange how quickly Crazy Horse had adapted the natives to Horse Combat. Slightly more than a hundred years ago, the continent had not known what a horse was. Today, Edward thought, Thasunke's Cavalry would hold up favourably against most European counterparts.

After the war speech, the different chieftains spoke up, offering their war contributions. The more war-like tribes brought forth young warriors. Other tribes had focussed upon breeding more horses for those warriors to ride. The more Eastern tribes, closer to Roanoke, offered pistols and bullets that they had made after sending apprentices to Roanoke's gunsmiths. After that, surplus trade goods were presented.

The natives had tried, and had advanced quickly, but their weaponry was still far more prone to misfire, and less accurate, than their European counterparts. This is what the trade goods were for, and this is where Edward's problem lay.

"Speak up, I shall translate" Manteo said.

Edward stood up, clearing his throat, hoping this would go well.

"Hello everyone." He started. Manteo translated, and in turn, others translated what Manteo had said. Then, people started returning what he presumed were greetings in their native languages.

He felt silly, covered in steel armour amongst these people, but then again, he needed everything he could get here.

"I am Edward the relentless, Protector of the Colony. I come bearing direful tidings, and pleading for help. My people, the English, are part of a tribe that lives far beyond the sea, in a land called Europe."

As Manteo translated, some people nodded. This, they knew. Most of them had heard about the source of horses and weaponry that had allowed them to fight of Aztec armies.

"Our Chieftain, King James, rules there, and by our laws, he also rules us, even though we are very far away from him.

"Trade, cooperation and unity have brought our people great prosperity, and our Colony has become like, well, like a great bowl of soup, with people from all over the world each adding their own unique ingredients, creating a greater whole together.

"However, our Chieftain has become jealous of our wealth, and has raised a tax that is too high. For everything that goes on a ship, one fifth goes to him. This includes food, cloth, furs and weapons."

At this, he heard people gasp, discuss things. He waited until they had some time to talk about this and realize what it meant.

"In addition to this, he demands we trade by ship only with the people in our homeland. This all will greatly influence our Colony, as well as the incoming weaponry necessary for the war."

He waited again, unsure of what to say next. He'd had something prepared, but it was always difficult to see how such things would translate so such different cultures.

"We are afraid that, if we do not send King James these taxes, he will send soldiers, and force us with violence. And bountiful as the Colony is, it is nothing compared to his majesties armies."

He was unsure of what so say next. His purpose here had mostly been to judge the mood, find out where these people stood. Governor Calvert had not yet decided what to do. And although Edward thought the taxes and regulations too stringent, he was not quite sure if he was ready to fight his fellow knights.

Then, before he could continue, Crazy Horse stood up, shouting something he could not understand, riling up the crowd. He talked fast, with madness in his eyes. Then, Manteo started translating what the man had said.

"Thasunke is saying that the greatest purpose of our people is to fight the war against the lord of blood. That it is what has brought us together in a way that nothing could ever have done. He is calling upon the void in the sky. He is saying that all who oppose the war efforts are enemies of the living."

Then, Thasunke came closer, standing in front of Edward, and speaking just a few words, Edward recognized the king's name in there. Then, he smiled his crazy smile

"He is saying that, if Chieftain James wishes to send soldiers to take what is yours, you should let them come."

"I take it, then, that we have his support in case of a conflict?" he asked.

Manteo translated, and Crazy Horse didn't say anything in reply, he just smiled even more, and nodded.

Thomas looked over the preliminary document, and thought back to how he'd gotten his post.

In the past, he had been a fool. His power allowed him to pick between two possibilities, and he had used it frivolously. Troop placements, patrol routes, other such things. It had been foolish of him, activating it several times a day. And although it had gotten him far in life, going from nothing to being a confidante of his royal highness, he had not actually achieved anything at all.

He looked back to the other world, the one that this one had split from just over six years ago. There, his actions had caused the defeat of Lustrum and her band of anarchists, and the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire had unleashed a war of religion upon Europe, people slaughtering each other because they worshipped the same god in a slightly different way. There, Thomas lived comfortably in the British court, using his expertise and knowledge to send expeditions to conquer, read: plunder, the natives on the eastern coast.

He had risen high there, much higher than a governor of a colony that, all things considered, had been an afterthought. However, in that world, Europe was at war, the lord of blood had expanded much further Northward, and Native-British relations were at an all-time low.

For the first time in so many years, he caused a collapse, destroying the timeline where he had remained in Europe. All that remained of that time were his memories and expertise.

He returned his attention to the document before him, the document that, in all likelihood, would dominate the next several years of one of his timelines.

Edward had told him of the response of the natives, the last little Calvert had needed.

He closed one pair of eyes, and opened two.

In one reality, he threw the document in the small hearth located in his office.

In another reality, he called together his council.

It was a gamble, but it was a relatively safe one.

If the taxes turned out too high, or if they lost their bid for independence, there was always the alternative.


	11. Chapter 9: Newter, Son of Echidna

**Chapter 9: The Boy who is a Beast. Newter, Son of Echidna.**  
The air was cool and dry, no dirt covered the floors, and dust was a non-entity in the halls. Newter had seen technological marvels before. From a certain perspective, he was one himself. But most of those had been singular devices. A tool that allows the user to fly, a blade that can cut through solid steel. In this case, the mansion itself was the device. There was a harmony to it, nothing wasted, everything reused.

The man who had created it stood before him. Colin Wallis. He'd heard the name mentioned before. Apparently, he was rather famous. His owner hadn't liked the man, because he wouldn't sell them his weaponry. Never keep a mercenary from new, better weapons. They don't like it when you do that.

Standing next to the natural philosopher was his manservant, a young African man. From his stance, he was much more than just a manservant.

Not in the heretical sense. Or, at least, in the way that others would call heretical. Newter had often wondered if there was indeed such a thing as a kind and loving god. If there was, why did he exist?

Also in the room was a girl with curly brown hair, and a guilty look on her face. She was still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. It was, after all, after midnight.

"So… what now?" The African man asked.

"I am… not quite sure yet. What do you think?" Wallis replied, gesturing towards Newter.

"I'm… I don't know…. Not really familiar with deciding stuff…" he replied.

"In that case, maybe we could talk a bit first? About the witch-hunters, and where you come from?" the older man replied again.

"I… uhmmm…" how was he supposed to handle this? Melanie had hated it when he talked, probably because she didn't want to deal with the fact that he was a person, you know, beneath the orange skin and everything.

"Well, I guess I can start by introducing myself. My name is Colin, and I'm a natural philosopher. This young man here is Brian, better known as the shadow of benevolence. And this over here is Taylor, whom I believe owes you an apology."

This time, it was the girl that spoke up. "It's not like I was able to do anything…"

"But you still tried to attack him, and it's the thought that counts." Colin replied.

"Fine… I'm sorry for attacking you with swarms of bees and stuff…. What's your name anyways? Can't really apologize if I don't know your name."

"The institute called me Newter." Newter replied.

"And what do you call yourself?" she replied.

"Dunno… just Newter I guess."

"oh…"

At that point, Colin interjected.

"Can you tell me more about this 'institute'?"

He gathered his thoughts. Wondering what to say. If these people were really freeing him, he wanted to tell them the truth. But what if they were lying? Or what if Melanie would come back for him? As far as he knew, she hadn't been killed. Alexander, too, had survived the fight, at least if he hadn't bled out from having a stump for a leg.

"I… Don't know that much… It's where I was born, created. I don't really remember though. They did something to my mind. I, well. I remember remembering more than I remember now, but those memories are completely gone. I have no idea what they were off."

Colin had grabbed a strange machine with lots of buttons, and started pushing on them with different fingers. At the top of the machine, a piece of paper extended, and every now and then, he would hear a "ping" noise, and the paper would move again.

"I know it was cold… back where I was born. In the east, I think. And I remember seeing my mother. Sort of. It was this big thing made of flesh, and the people from the institute, they threw people on top of it, and they'd get absorbed into the flesh, and then it would regurgitate something like me. Something wrong, but still a purpose."

"The Echidna…" Colin answered. "I've heard stories of it. Someone with an ability that malfunctioned somehow, creating new life by using other life as a blueprint."

"Mother of monsters… that fits, I guess…" the girl said.

"Anyway, I remember being put in a cage, and getting transported west, riding after the sun. I don't know how I knew that was west, and I don't remember learning it, but then I don't remember learning how to talk either… Anyway, after a while, someone reached a deal with Melanie, and I ended up with her."

"And Melanie… The Witch-Huntress… I used to think they worked on their own, but their reaction was too rapid… Do you know anything about her, or her organisation?" Colin asked

"Not really. I think they're related to the place that made me, but I never met all that many of them. At first just Melanie, later Alexander, and sometimes a few others as well, but not often."

"No structure or organisation that you could see? I could understand dividing up in cells to stop infiltrators or other such people, but even then they'd need to get their mission somewhere…"

"Don't know sir… Just… sometimes they'd stand still and start talking to people who weren't there, mostly when they thought I wasn't listening. I'm pretty sure they were completely crazy though… didn't make any sense what they said."

"I see… perhaps someone with a sound-based ability then, able to hear and speak long distances to specific targets… I should install some sonic shielding on the mansion to deal with that problem…"

Taylor started yawning, still tired after having been woken up in the middle of the night.

"Doesn't help us against reinforcements though…." Brian said.

"No, it won't… And if they're somehow all in communication with each other, there might be a lot of them coming." Colin replied

"Can we take them?" Brian asked.

"Probably, but we have to think further than that. We stay here and fight, they may just keep escalating the situation. We need another solution, And I think I have a way to catch two birds with one stone."

"How?" Brian asked again.

"A colleague of mine in Sweden, a natural philosopher called Rey Andino, has been doing research into artificial lifeforms much like young Newter here. Amongst other things, he has been studying what few things he could find relating to the Echidna. Perhaps he is able to help out young Newter here."

"You're going to make me a real boy?" Newter asked. Cheering himself up.

"I… will see what I can do, I can't make any promises though."

"Oh…"

"So, how is that two birds?" Brian asked.

"Because I was going to ask you and Taylor to go find him, and bring him a few samples from Newter here so he can do his thing."

"All the way to Sweden?" Taylor asked.

"Yes, Rey has his laboratory in the mountains, about fifty miles northwest of Stockholm, it's difficult to ensure a successful package delivery. If I send you two, you can ensure correct delivery, and at the samte time get out of the line of fire. If you're not in the city, they can't hunt you down, and we'll lose the heat, even if they bring a psychic."

Taylor's face was slowly getting a bit red.

"But… just me and Brian… I mean… I'm not sure…"

"I have to agree with Taylor…" Brian said.

"You'll be allright, both of you have powerful abilities, and I'll supply you with some weapons and enough coin to pay your way. You can take my coach to Lübeck, and book passage to Stockholm from there. No, wait… There's someone I'd like you to check out in Kopenhagen, a guy claiming to be a technological genius, capable of building whatever he wants. You can take a boat there, and go to Stockholm form there."

"But… just the two of us? A young man and woman on the road all by themselves? I'm not sure it's a good idea sir…" Brian said.

Newter grinned to himself, smart as he was, apparently Colin didn't quite understand appropriate relations between a man and a woman…. A young man like Brian, a young lady like Taylor… Even discounting the differences it would be inappropriate.

"Nonsense Brian, I'd trust you to do it on your own, there won't be any problems if you have some help, and you can help Taylor get familiar with her skills."

Brian looked like he knew how useless arguing would be. Perhaps if he'd said it explicitly, Colin would have understood. But it wasn't like Newter was going to help him with that, seeing both youngsters suddenly get nervous about something was way too much fun.

"Now, Newter, how about we get you something to eat, and these two can get to bed before moving out tomorrow?" Colin asked.

"Okay sir." He replied, standing up. He looked behind him, where he'd just been sitting. The small layer of slimy sweat that surrounded his skin had left a few drops behind. He hoped no-one would touch it, or they'd start hallucinating themselves into lala-land. Maybe he should say something about it… but if Colin knew what a bother his biology could be…

Better to ignore thoughts like that, the man probably already knew anyway… It was time to get some food.

Aisha had to admit, it was probably quite inappropriate, spying like this. But she had an excuse; she'd just been going to the bathroom. Wasn't her fault that she decided to take a quick walk around as well, nor was it her fault that, when standing in just the right place, you could hear what happened in other places in the house through the vents.

So, apparently, Brian was taking Taylor on a trip across Europe, just the two of them, and master Wallis had completely ignored how inappropriate such a thing would be.

If only there was a certain specific someone who could keep an eye on them, to make sure that, if something inappropriate happened, that person would be there to properly document the events.

A/N: An old german mile is approximately 7.5 kilometre, of 4.66 modern miles. It is 1/15th of an equatorial degree. The stuff you learn on wikipedia


	12. Chapter 10: Aisha, rebel without a cause

**Chapter 10: Aisha, Rebel without a cause.**  
 _ **March 20, 1621**_

Even though Colin had done all sorts of things to the coach, it still stumbled around whenever it hit a big rock.

At least, she thought it was big rocks. It could, of course, also be the corpses of highway robbers, or maybe they'd already started bumping uglies and what she'd thought was rocks had just been them making the carriage rock around. Which was also a kind of rock. So it was probably rocks either way.

Right now, Aisha was hidden in a box that was supposed to be filled with clothes, except instead of normal clothes, it'd been filled with thick coats lined with fur and such. Which was ridiculous, because it wasn't even winter. So, Aisha had taken out the thick coats, and added her own wonderful personality to the mix. The problem was, of course, that the crate had been made by master Wallis, and that it therefore didn't have any convenient cracks for her to look through.

Also, she hadn't brought anything to drink. She'd been smart enough to bring some bread and a piece of cheese, and completely forgotten that people also needed to drink.

"Klunk" the carriage went, and she was thrown up a bit, knocking her head against the top of the box.

"Fuck… fuck fuck fuck…" that hurt.

Suddenly, the carriage came to a stop, after a few seconds, she heard footsteps coming towards her box. Then, light suddenly came from outside, and she looked up, at a very angry Brian.

"Hey bro… fancy seeing you here huh?"

Brian just stood there, silently, smacking his hand against his forehead.

"Brian? What's wrong?" She heard Taylor's voice coming from the front of the carriage. So they'd been sitting on top, probably lewdly handholding together…

"We have an escapee…" Brian replied.

"Escapee?" Taylor's voice came again, this time from slightly closer.

"Escapee from Hamburg… or maybe stowaway on the carriage. Though I'm not sure if stowaways are a thing on land…" Brian replied.

"Hey, I just fell asleep bro, you're the one who loaded me into this thing…"

"Aisha, what was in that box?" Taylor asked.

"Just some clothes you didn't need, it's good weather anyway." She said.

"Our winter clothes…. You took our winter clothes… Aisha, we're going into the Sweden, up high into the wilderness, we needed those clothes."

"Well, I needed the legspace…"

"That's it." Brian said. "I'm going to turn this thing around, if we hurry, we can be back home just past noon tomorrow."

"Aww, come on bro, I've been cooped up in that city for ages… I wanna see the world."

Brian sighed, and Taylor chose to leave the situation to him, leaning against the side of the carriage, unsure of herself.

"And I want to make sure you stay safe. You know that Aisha, you know all the things I've done to keep you safe." He replied.

It was true, she had to admit. Ever since what had happened, ever since Brian had gotten his powers, all the way on the other side of the world, on that ridiculously hot island. Ever since he'd killed their master for…

"Come on… I can help you guys, make sure neither of you does anything inappropriate…"

At that, Taylor started blushing again. She was so obvious, so easy to manipulate this way.

"It's not safe… Someone could hurt you."

"C'mon bro, you can keep me safe, and you've got Taylor to help too. Right Tay?"

"You… you know?" Taylor asked.

"Duhhh, heard everything last night, wasn't hard to puzzle together."

"Oh…"she replied.

"So, Brian?" Aisha said.

"Yeah? What now?"

"Can I come? Please?"

"I don't think it's a good idea…"

"Pretty pretty please?" she said, looking at her brother with the biggest puppy eyes.

"Fine…" he replied.

It worked every single time.

 _ **March 21, 1621**_

"But I'm boooored…" she said, as they passed another boring old field filled with boring old plants.

"Well, maybe you should've thought about that before inviting yourself along." Her brother answered.

"Are we there yet?" she asked.

"Not yet… you can tell by the fact that we're not in a city right now…" he answered.

"Boooring." She replied.

They were sitting on the front side of the carriage, Brian was in charge of the horses, and keeping an eye on her apparently. Yesterday, and today as well, had been dreadfully boring. They hadn't been accosted by bandits, met any runaway princesses, had interesting discussions with travelling priests, or fallen into cursed rivers.

All in all, it had been incredibly boring. Not the type of journey people would write about. Perhaps god was punishing her with a boring journey or something.

"I'mma go talk to Taylor!" she said, jumping off of the carriage. The road itself, going between Lübeck and Hamburg, was hardened. It wasn't paved, not exactly, but someone had done something to the ground to make it into some sort of almost-stone material. Maybe some natural philosopher had come up with it, or maybe the mayor of Lübeck (Christner was far too stingy for something like this) had paid someone with a road-making ability to do it for them.

She waited for a second, then jumped on the little step on the outside of the coach door, and pulled open the door.

"Watcha doing? I'm bored…" she said.

Taylor was just sitting there, not even reading a book or anything.

"Yes, I know you are bored. I heard." She replied.

"C'mon Tay… there's nothing to do out here."

"Go read a book then, I brought plenty of them.."

It was strange, she didn't sound as annoyed as Aisha had expected. Usually, when people were doing something and you interrupted them, they got all angry. Oh well, maybe she hadn't been doing anything anyway.

Then, Taylor continued talking.

"As to what I've been doing… Would you fancy some fresh honey Aisha?" she asked.

"Fresh honey? What are you talking about, there's not a store in sight. If there were, this wouldn't be so incredibly boooring…."

"Just look behind you." She said, a smile on her face that Aisha mostly recognized from looking in mirrors.

She turned around, looking at the fields… and an enormous swarm of bees coming right for them.

Aisha did the only reasonable thing that one could do in such a situation. She started screaming like a little girl. Which was okay, because she was only about fourteen years old, and therefore technically a little girl.

"Relax Aisha, I've got it under control." Taylor replied, but she hadn't even finished her sentence before they could hear Brian start yelling as well.

Somehow, his little girl yell was even higher than Aisha's.

"It's all right Brian! They're all mine!" Taylor yelled.

Aisha just laughed her ass of at Taylor trying to explain how a literal army of bees was somehow less scary if they were controlled by a person. That just meant they could fly in formation and stuff.

Slowly, the bees started flying past Aisha, into the carriage, depositing themselves on top of an empty bottle Taylor had put there. The bees were busy, helping each other deposit the honey, but it looked way too watery to be honey.

"Hmm, it doesn't look right doesn't it?" Taylor asked.

"No…. don't think so."

"I guess there's another process involved… I thought this would be easy you know. I can just force them to do what I wanted, and deposit the honey immediately... but it doesn't seem to work that way."

"Can't you just order them to bring the honey from the hive here, rather than getting new stuff from flowers? Make them steal their own stuff and bring it to you?"

"I guess, but wouldn't they need that honey to eat?"

"If you're making them fly around for you instead of working normally, aren't you already taking production time, and therefore food?"

"I guess…"

They sat there for a few seconds, together, overthinking the insects.

"They're just bees though." Aisha said.

"Yeah, guess you're right." Taylor replied.

"Hey girls, you might want to put away those bees. We're almost there." Brian yelled from the front of the carriage.

Aisha pulled herself out of the carriage again, and climbed to the roof. It was true, she could see the walls of Lübeck in the distance, and the great towers behind it. From what she'd gathered, those had been designed by the cities' mayor. The mayor, apparently, had decided that, after people had insulted him for believing business to be more importantly than godliness, that that meant that he should make business buildings more important than godly buildings.

Thus, several towers had joined the spires of the cathedral, turning the centre of the Hansa into a vertical city, instead of a horizontal one.

Slowly, they appeared at the city gate, where there was a line with several other carriages. Several different roads converged here, and most of them had to use the same gate, which, apparently, was on alert. Most of the people wanting in seemed to be merchants or similar types of folk.

She wondered why there was so much security. The city guard at the gate was talking to everyone before letting them in. Were they afraid of witches, after what had happened in Hamburg? Or was there something else going on?

Brian completely ignored the line of waiting coaches and wagons, and made a beeline for the gate.

"Halt" one of the guards spoke in loud and clear German. Very well enunciated and everything.

The guardsman approached, and Aisha noted that he was not wearing metal armour. Instead, it seemed to be made out of some sort of ceramic material, shaped like the plate-mail of a knight. It was interesting, and now that he'd seen it, Brian would probably want some. He was like that whenever he saw a new type of weapon or such. Sometimes, master Wallis would decide to indulge him, he usually played around with his new toy for a few days, before promptly deciding it wasn't as good as his usual gear.

"State your business. You better not be trying to skip the line for no reason." The guard said.

"Got a package bound for Stockholm from my boss, the natural philosopher Colin Wallis, a friend of mayor Arent Weltz."

"Got any papers proving that young man? Not to judge you on your colour, but we get our share of liars here, and you don't quite look like an official messenger." The guy said.

It was annoying, having a different colour of skin than everyone else. Aisha could sympathize with Newter, who didn't even have a brother or sister with the same orange colour.

And sure, Germany wasn't the colonies in the Carribean. Generally speaking, the people in Germany weren't actively malicious. They did, however, notice that she was different. It took a lot of effort for her to go unnoticed in a crowd.

And then there were guys like this, who claimed not to judge them, but still wanted to see their papers. Sure, maybe he would've asked Brian for the papers if he was white. But then again, maybe he wouldn't have.

And it wasn't like putting Taylor in front would help them. She was white, German even, but she was also a woman, which meant they wouldn't take her entirely serious, or maybe get all protective around her.

Brian grabbed an official looking letter with a fancy seal, and showed the address on it, as well as the sender. From Colin Wallis, in Hamburg, to Rey Andino, in Sweden. The letter just said Stockholm on it. If they happened to lose it, and someone else got their hands on it, they'd know where to send it. Someone could probably send it to Rey from there. From what Aisha knew, the guy was sort of a Hermit, only leaving his home in the wilderness every month or so.

Eventually, after quite some talking and arguing, Brian managed to convince the guard to let him through without moving to the back of the line.

Before them, the gate started opening. It wasn't a normal gate, pulling up an iron grate, or pulling back large wooden doors. Instead, it started folding in on itself. Through the gaps in the wood, Aisha could see a great amount of big and small cogs, turning in such a way that the gate opened itself.

When it came to the entrance, Lübeck dressed to impress.

The city itself was amazing, every building twice as high as its counterpart in Hamburg would be, the streets were surprisingly clean. Aisha remembered who had been responsible for that.

A few years ago, when they'd just arrived in Hamburg and Brian had just started working with master Wallis, a short man had arrived in the mansion, and Colin had asked her to get them some wine. For once, she'd actually listened. The short man looked stern, but well-dressed. Very professional in his dress and bearing. The man had asked her a few questions about the plantation, and then discussed the systems in the mansion. Master Wallis had later told her that the man had gone back to Lübeck and implemented a system that was similar to his for waste treatment, as well as toilets similar to the ones they had. The short man had been the mayor, and had gotten inspired by the mansion's systems.

Sadly, they didn't stay in Lübeck for very long, and made their way straight for the docks, where Brian started talking to some captains, looking for passage to Kopenhagen.

"Aisha, let's go shopping, we need new clothes, and you didn't bring enough for the journey." Taylor suddenly said, leaving the carriage.

"Fine…" she replied. It was true, they'd need new clothes.

But first, she'd have to sneak off and go by the market. She couldn't very well not know all the local gossip could she now? Plus, maybe Taylor and her brother would finally do something in the meantime. All this proper behaviour was getting annoying, when where they going to get busy?

 _ **March 21, 1621**_

Aisha had thought that the never-ending carriage-ride from Hamburg to Lübeck had been the most boring thing in the universe.

She had been wrong.

Ships, were the most boring thing in the universe.

And she wasn't even allowed to get anywhere near the important parts of the ship, let alone climb the mast.

In fact, the only thing that was even slightly entertaining, was the torrent of fluids coming out of Taylor's mouth. She'd never left Hamburg before, and even though her father had worked on the docks, she'd never been on a ship either.

"You all right Tay?" she asked.

Taylor turned from the side of the ship and looked at her with a green tint to her face.

"No… though I think the worst of it is through."

"Kay… so, I was thinking…"

"I have to say Aisha, I don't quite-" Taylor's sentence was interrupted by another watery load making its way up her throat, and she vomited it over the edge. Then, she continued her sentence as if nothing had happened. " I don't quite believe you've been doing any thinking."

"Well then I don't tell you little secret." She replied. It wasn't really a secret, she just wanted to have Taylor ask to be told.

She observed her sick travelling companion. She'd survived her own journey over the Atlantic quite well, and Brian hadn't even really noticed the fact that they'd been on a ship. Maybe it had something to do with his powers' effect on people's sense of balance or something. Maybe it wasn't. Master Wallis probably knew.

But Taylor also had powers, wouldn't her bugs help her keep her balance somehow? Aisha wasn't quite sure about how they worked, but apparently they didn't help against sea-sickness. Maybe they did the opposite? Tay was throwing up a lot. If she hadn't spied on the girl as much as she had the last few weeks, she'd start suspecting her brother had already done inappropriate things, but they wouldn't really have had any way to hide that from her. Even though she'd missed Taylor's nightly outings.

"I don't want to know your secret Aisha… I just want to read… but I can't…"

"Can't? You lose your eyes or something? Puke em out?"

"No… it just gets worse if I try to-" and there she went again, this time dry-heaving. Nothing was actually coming out, which made it worse.

"Just keep looking at the horizon. Even if there's nothing to see." Aisha advised. Maybe it'd work, maybe it wouldn't, but Taylor was too miserable to properly make fun of right now.

"I'll try." Taylor said. "Doesn't help that I can sense the bottom most of the time. It's not very deep here."

"There's bugs down there?" she asked. Were there underwater bees, gathering underwater honey from underwater flowers and bringing it to underwater hives? It didn't really sound realistic, as bees couldn't swim, but maybe?

"No, crabs and stuff also works. Hurts though, they have weird eyes, in a different way than flies and bees." Taylor replied.

"Ohhh, shucks, I guess." Aisha replied. "Any Melusine or shit like that down there? Sirens or crazy sea-monsters?"

"Not really, not looking for them either though."

 _ **March 23, 1621**_

Finally, they had arrived in Kopenhagen. Aisha was almost happy that the boredom was over. Almost. She couldn't forget that they still had to go to Stockholm, and then from Stockholm to wherever this Rey guy was hanging out.

Stockholm though… it was… amazing.

Sure, Hamburg was cool. There was enough money there for people to build nice houses for themselves, and the streets were maintenanced quite well, but it was individual stuff, every merchant and craftsman doing his own thing. Lübeck had been vertical and efficient. It'd been remade into an efficient grid-pattern where possible, and most of the buildings had been kind of similar, even though they were big and awesome. The same team, working for the same person, building the same thing over and over again.

Kopenhagen was, at the same time, a fortress and a city. The areas facing the sea especially had been fortified, and masses of cannons stood ready to repel invaders. The city was prosperous, and the individual houses were of good quality, but the real important thing was the public works. Even from the deck of the ship, she could see the fountains and marketplaces, the churches, what Taylor said was a famous library, these were the big differences between the capital of a kingdom, and a prosperous city in Germany.

The docks themselves were busy, as busy as the docks in Hamburg used to be, and would hopefully soon return to being, once all the damage had been repaired. People shouting form the shore and official looking little boats guided the ship they'd booked passage on towards its mooring. As they came closer, large ropes pulled the ship into position, planks were placed for people to walk on, and there was even a crane for the heavy cargo. Brian and Taylor were on the deck now too, waiting for a moment to talk to the captain, but Aisha had already seen her next target. At the end of a street, just around the corner, something big was happening. She could see the crowds moving with enthusiasm, and people were cheering on something. As she tried to get of the ship, Brian yelled at her.

"Remember, we have to meet this mister Bjerg guy Aisha, you can't just go running of!"

"Yeah yeah, I'll meet you there! "She replied, jumping onto one of the planks, and from there onto the shore. Then, she weaved in between people, passing through the crowd like a, well, like a teenager trying to get to the hip place to be.

After a few minutes of making her way past dockworkers, haggling merchants, fishmongers and other such idiots, she made her way into the crowd of onlookers. When she looked up, she could see what was happening. It was a big open square, and a cord had been placed between the tower of a church, and the top of a large building on the opposite of the square. She had absolutely no idea why people were looking at it, until she saw someone in the middle of the square, standing on a small platform, holding some sort of technological marvel in his hands.

The man held the item to his mouth, and looked afraid, as if it could explode at any moment.

"Testing testing one two three." A loud voice came from the man, much louder than she'd thought it would be. The device was obviously some sort of speaklouder. She didn't have much time to figure out more, as the man continued talking.

"Ladies and Gentleman of Kopenhagen. You all know him! You all love him! It's the most courageous, the most stalwart, the most valorous, and above all, the most daring man of Denmark. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you THE OVERMAN. And today, for your eyes only, in a one-time special performance, he will cross this cord you see above us! Without safeties! While balancing on a leather ball! And juggling flaming torches! All the while balancing an egg on a spoon that he's holding in his mouth! Now you may think, this seems a little easy for THE OVERMAN, which is why, for the small price of half a kroner, you can buy these wooden balls!" At this, the man held up a bucket filled with small, sturdy wooden balls. "You can throw these balls at him, and if he falls down, not only will everyone get their money back, the lucky thrower that finished him off will win a prize of a hundred kroner! Come now, throw your balls, and get rich!.

At that, quite a few people ran forward to buy the balls. There were two groups of people buying them. Aisha could recognize the hooligans, people who just liked throwing stuff at someone, and maybe winning lots of money to buy drinks with, and there were the out-of-towners. The rest, obviously, didn't think it a good deal. Aisha could guess why. Not just anyone would call himself THE OVERMAN, and anyone crazy enough to think of this plan, would probably have spent all of his crazy on doing this stunt, and not have enough crazy left for this business deal.

"It's a bad deal." She heard someone say to the right of her. She looked, and saw two girls looking towards the spectacle as well. The girl that had just spoken was a redhead, with a lot of muscle, and clothes that looked old and uninteresting. Blatantly uninteresting, as if they'd been picked out in order not to attract attention. She looked to be about Taylor's age, fifteen or something like that. The other girl was a blonde, longhaired and pretty, wearing the same type of clothing, but distinctly uncomfortable in them.

"I know. First of all, those balls are probably hollow, greatly reducing the energy transfer between ball and Overman. Secondly, the cord had been placed at a high elevation, too high for any normal person to properly aim or throw at high velocities. Finally, there is the fact that there is going to be a balance-ball in between the cord and the Overman, which means that it will be rather difficult for any of the throwers to hit him directly even if they could aim." The blonde said. Her accent was posh, like someone that had been brought up to speak properly and such.

"No, I mean, cause, THE OVERMAN doesn't lose. That's all you need to know." The redhead replied. A fan, probably, given the way she pronounced his name, like it would be written in capital letters only. Aisha wondered where the duo had come from. Maybe they were assassins, hiding in the populace until they could find their target? Or they could be witches, on the run from witch-hunters, much like Taylor was right now, having found comfort in each other's presence. Or maybe one of them was a runaway princess, fleeing from a dragon that wanted to lock her up in a tower. Or maybe-

Her thought process was interrupted by a yell from the crowd. They were chanting now. "OVERMAN. OVERMAN. OVERMAN."

Aisha looked up, and saw what had been described to her, a man, balancing on a ball, juggling flaming torches, with a spoon, upside down even, in his mouth on which he was bouncing an egg. Slowly but surely, he went forward. After a few seconds, the balls started flying in, most of them didn't even reach the cord, like the blonde girl had said. The few that did hit didn't get THE OVERMAN out of balance.

As he continued on the journey, he started bouncing, dodging the balls flying towards him by making the ball bounce on the cord. Aisha had absolutely no idea how he was doing all of this. Some sort of magical ability to be amazing at whatever he wanted to do? Seemed at the same time really powerful, and almost useless when compared to what Brian or Taylor could do. Even moreso when compared to, say, the witch Burnscar.

As the event was nearing its end, Aisha decided to take her leave. OVERMAN wasn't going to fall, and waiting until the end meant getting stuck in the crowds. She had more to see in this city before making her way to the place they'd be staying.

As she made her way back, she noticed the blonde girl again, looking at her. Weird… whatevs.

 _S_ _ **ame day, evening.**_

The Bjerg manor was located in the middle of the city, in a respectable neighbourhood. It had been in the family for a few generations, and before Søren the family had been quite successful. Now, after his father's death, Søren had changed the basement into his laboratory, and slowly changed the rest of the house into his laboratory as well. His widowed mother was not very enthusiastic, nor was the staff. They made great meals though, so the kitchen was probably still intact.

Right now, mister inventor was animatedly talking to Taylor and Brian, bragging about the stuff he'd created. A machine that created drinks for you when you clapped your hands. A clock that would work even at sea, allowing for longitudinal position-finding. A machine that would create a shield around the user, protecting him from arrows, blades and bullets. When Brian had gotten interested and asked if it would be possible to get one designed for him, Bjerg got awfully silent.

Eventually, once dinner had ended, mister Bjerg showed them a few more of his inventions, stored throughout the manor, eventually arriving at what seemed to be a chess-table.

"It's an improvement on Richter's Ottoman" mister Bjerg said.

"Oh… improvement you say?" Taylor asked. "I've played against the original, and there were some exploitable flaws…"

"Of course it's an improvement." The man replied. "Absolutely no-one is able to beat this one."

"Oh, is that a bet?" a voice said from a corner of the room. Aisha looked at the source of the sound, and thought she recognized him. Had she seen him back in Hamburg? Somewhere else? She couldn't quite remember.

"Well, I mean, everyone but you…" the inventor replied. Obviously not surprised at this sudden stranger having entered his house.

"I shall take up the challenge then." Taylor interjected.

"Okay… I'm afraid it's made to only play black, so you'll have to play with the white side…"

"No problem, do you happen to have a chair for me?" Taylor asked.

As the inventor went to grab the necessary furniture, Aisha suddenly realized where she knew the man that had suddenly appeared from. "You're the OVERMAN!" she shouted.

The man looked at her, and sighed. "Yup. That's me. Though it's just Rasmus out of costume… You a fan?"

"Saw you in the square…" Aisha replied.

"Another moneymaking scheme, Ras? Seriously, it's beneath you." Søren Bjerg said.

"At least one of you is bringing in money." His mother mumbled.

"Mom, I told you, It's about art and science, we're making history, what's money in comparison to that!" It sounded like an argument they'd had before.

"Oh great, so my son will go into the history books as a good-for-nothing inventor…" the older woman replied.

"You know what mom, I"ll show you. The project is almost done, the big one. You'll want to see this Brian, You'll want to tell that boss of yours who the greatest technological genius is." He said, slowly becoming louder.

"Okay" was all Brian said, seeming sceptical, and mister Bjerg, who was looking more and more like just a Søren, guided him towards a big room at the back of the houses basement

Taylor just sat there, looking at a chess-board that was three moves into the game. "But… I was going to play chess…"

"He's always like that when he gets going." OVERMAN said. "C'mon, you don't want to miss the show."

Aisha looked, and even Søren's kindly old mother stood up and came to watch. Apparently, this was gonna be good. She followed, standing back a bit. Okay, standing back a lot.

"It's a project that builds upon the chess machine you see." Søren said. "You see, the chess machine senses the movements of the white pieces, which are each connected to individual cogs, that, together, form a proto-mind that reacts by moving the black pieces. Now what I've done, is insert variable clockwork that allowed for self-improvement in the system, it learned from its mistakes.

"Here, I've scaled that process up." he proclaimed, while standing in front of something big with a white cloth obscuring it from view. Then, trying to dramatic, but completely mistiming it, he removed the cloth.

It was a person. Or, at least, sort of like a person. There were two metal legs, yes. There were also two metal arms, and even a metal head, with a very ugly wig as hair. It was the torso, however, that didn't fit, being roughly as large as the coach they'd ridden to Lübeck, yet still being attached to normal-sized limbs.

"I call it, Project Mechanoid!" the crazy inventor shouted to no-one in particular.

It was silent for a few minutes, until Brian had the temerity to speak up. "Does it actually do anything?" he asked in a monotone, unimpressed voice.

"Does it do anything? Of course it does, watch, as I charge it with Grammic energy using biological power! Life from life!" he shouted, as he reached for an aquarium standing in the corner, and grabbed what looked like some sort of fish-snake after putting on some thick gloves.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Taylor asked.

"Of course this is a good idea! I'm the greatest inventor in the country!" Søren Bjerg proclaimed, moving the fish to an opening low in the torso of the metal man-like thing. He attached one end of the fish to one plug, and the other end to another plug, and suddenly, Grammic arcs started moving across the thing. Then, the metal eye sockets lighted up, and the mouth started moving.

It didn't produce any sound, but the mouth moved nonetheless.

"Of course… sound production equipment… I'll need to…" Bjerg started mumbling, while OVERMAN was grabbing something from another device. A black disc with a hole in the middle, he threw it towards the metal man.

Slowly, but steadily, the arm of Project Mechanoid moved, and intercepted the black discus. It looked at the device for a second, and then at the object OVERMAN had taken it from. Then, with its finger, it started scratching at the disk.

"Ah, the soundo-keeper, great idea!" Bjerg exclaimed

Aisha looked around, at whether or not anyone else was freaking out. Brian had drawn a weapon, she could see bugs on the wall behind Taylor, and the local mom was looking down in shame at her son's work.

Eventually, the mechanoid threw the disc back at OVERMAN, who put it in the device, and a strange tonal voice came out.

"Identity: PROJECT MECHANOID purpose: UNKNOWN Querry: PURPOSE?"

Bjerg was being very enthusiastic about the speech coming from the device, which was weird. If he'd created it, shouldn't he already have known what would happen?

"Your purpose is to show the world I am the greatest inventor in the world!" Bjerg exclaimed. Again, Rasmus threw a disk at the mechanoid, which started scratching into it.

She saw Taylor move towards Brian, and whisper sweet nothings in his ears. Or rather, she hoped they were sweet nothings. It was far more probably that she was saying something like "I don't think this is going to end well."

Rasmus caught the disk when the mechanoid threw it back, and placed it into the Soundo-Keeper. Which was a silly name. Again, a strange, a-tonal voice boomed through the room.

"Purpose: PROVE DOMINANCE." The machine said. Then, its tiny mechanical legs start shifting, lifting up the torso. Aisha could see more sparks starting to fly from the area where the snakefish had been plugged in. Something was wrong.

As it stood up, the Soundo-Keeper started talking again, strangely in tune with the movement of Project Mechanoid's head. "Method: DESTRUCTION."

Everyone suddenly went very very still.

Then, Project Mechanoid broke the silence by grabbing a piece of furniture, and throwing it at Bjerg's mother, who was saved by a quick dive from THE OVERMAN.

Then, all hell broke loose. Brian started generating his clouds of darkness, masses of bugs started flying towards the Mechanoid, and Bjerg started screaming like a little girl.

Aisha ducked under a table, and the Soundo-Keeper started speaking again. "DESTROY ALL WHO ARE NOT CREATOR! DESTROY ALL WHO ARE NOT CREATOR!" it yelled, while seeking for more things to grab.

OVERMAN, in the meantime, was throwing knifes at the machine, grabbing them from hiding places beneath his clothes, and large parts of the room were being obscured by black mist, hiding them from the murderous machine.

Aisha felt a sudden hand on her arm, Taylor was grabbing her. "This way! Now!" she shouted, pulling Aisha out of the basement. They ran outside, hearing things being smacked around downstairs. The beams of the house started creaking. When they stepped outside, Aisha noticed that both Bjerg and his mother had already made their way outside.

"I've got my bugs inside of it, eating stuff and stopping the gears from moving, but it's not stopping! How do we beat this?" Taylor shouted at Bjerg.

"I… The gears are adaptive… that's the whole point! Whatever breaks gets replaced by something else! It's the way around my problem… everything I make kept breaking so I thought maybe if I build something that was supposed to brea-" he was interrupted by the sound of an explosion coming from downstairs. "

"What's he doing? What's exploding?" Aisha asked.

"Something tall, metal, cold on the inside, don't know, he just threw it and it turned into a conflagration…" Taylor replied.

"What? Not the ice-maker! It took ages to get that thing fine-tuned!" Bjerg exclaimed, as if that was the important thing here.

The building started shaking, more supports being broken or set on fire… Aisha was getting antsy. Her brother was still in there. Sure, he could usually take care of himself, but… what if he couldn't?

"How do we stop it?" Taylor asked again.

"I don't know… it's not designed to be stopped!"

"Think you useless idiot! What's the weak point?"

"I… I didn't make any weak points…" he replied again, punctuated by another explosion. Looking up, Aisha saw chess pieces flying into the air, even the white ones having been singed black.

Taylor was racking her brains, and the old widow was standing there with her hands in her hair. Aisha looked around further and noticed that the staff, at least, had made it out safely, standing at a safe distance from the now burning, almost collapsing building. Dust rose into the air, making it difficult to see what else was going on, but she was quite sure people would be watching this.

Then, she had a sudden flash of insight. "Taylor, he didn't design it with any weak points, so go for what he didn't design, the snakefish!"

"The eel?" Taylor proclaimed, taken by surprise. "But it's innocent, it didn't do anything to deserve-"

"Taylor NOW. My brother is in there!"

Suddenly, the rumbling of metal on rock, and the clang of metal on metal, died down, and after a painful minute, she saw OVERMAN and Brian make their way out of the ruined building. She ran forward, jumping into Brian's arms as the building begun its final collapse behind them.

Slowly, a fire brigade formed, chains of people passing buckets to make sure the fire didn't spread. It had been a cold, damp day, so the risk wasn't that large, but they could never be certain. Hours later in the evening, when they were sitting on the side of the street, having extinguished the fire, and buried the crazy metal invention in debris, Taylor spoke up.

"You know… All our stuff was in there…"

A look of shock came over Brian's face, and he started frantically checking his pockets, eventually finding what he had been looking for, the vials with samples from Newter, as well as the letter that went with it. Brian and Taylor collectively let out a sigh.

 _ **March 24, 1621. Very early morning.**_

They still had the items that were the object of their quest, which was useful. They did not, however, have the money to go where they needed to go.

Aisha was sitting on a small wall at the docks, being bored. It wasn't even morning yet, and she hadn't really slept, but she was too bored to fall asleep. Brian had been talking to the captains of any ship he could find, going to either Lübeck, Hamburg, or Stockholm, offering to work for passage there, but no-one was taking him up on it. Taylor, in the meantime, was talking to people in town who would possibly be able to assist them. Old friends of master Wallis, the Bjerg family, that sort of stuff, with just as little success as Brian was having.

Aisha was waiting for the pair of them to come up with something. This wasn't what she'd signed up for.

Eventually, someone sat down next to her. She looked, and recognized the pretty blonde in the overly poor clothes.

"So, you're on a journey to Stockholm right?" the girl asked. How had she known?

By observing Brian… Duhh.

"Yeah, why?"

"Just so happens I have a…. business proposition of sorts to make." She said, looking towards Brian where he was being waved off by an angry sailor.

"What sort of proposition?" she asked.

"I happen to know that you are in need of money to continue your journey. I happen to have that money, and also happen to require the use of some sort of all-concealing black smoke. Do you happen to know someone who could generate that?" The blonde replied.

Okay… this was getting fishy.

"Maybe?" Aisha answered, and looked for Brian. This was getting weird.

Luckily, Brian noticed, and made his way over to them.

"You should probably get bugsy too" the girl said.

Before Aisha could think of a reply, Brian had arrived.

"And who are you?" he asked.

"Moi? You can call me Lisa." The girl said.

"And what do you want with my sister?" Brian continued, trying to look menacing, without creating clouds of darkness.

"Nothing, really. It's just, I happen to know of this smuggler that's trying to leave the city, but can't, due to the increased security. I'm quite sure he would be quite willing to compensate anyone who could help him out, probably drop them off wherever they needed to go…"

Brian thought about it for a second, before becoming suspicious.

"And you're telling me this because?"

"Because I happen to have a drastic need to leave the city without going through all this enhanced port security?"

Again, Brian went silent for a few seconds.

"This having something to do with that kidnapping I hear about?" he replied.

"What? No? It's just me and Katherine, we're here of our own free will. Now come on, lets see if Katherine found bug girl yet and get going!" she exclaimed. She stood up, and started walking, motioning for them to follow.

"We haven't said yes yet." Brian said.

Lisa turned around, looking at them. "Yeah, but we both already know you're going to, so why leave the audience waiting? It's time for the next act!"

Unable to come up with a proper counterargument, Brian motioned for Aisha to follow, and walked after the girl.

Smugglers, strange girls who were definitely not kidnapped, a journey without supplies. This was going to be far more interesting than watching Brian and Taylor do the nasty before their wedding day!


	13. Assorted Interludes

**Interlude: The Oracle and the Empath**  
Dean von Habsburg had problems, problems that other people didn't have.

First of all, he was a Habsburg, and with that came status, expectations, and a whole lot of political backstabbing and other such intrigue. He could only wish to live in a world without all of those things, for the happy simple life of a peasant.

But there was more to it than that. Whereas most of his family could pretend, could hide behind masks and act as if nothing was wrong, Dean didn't have that option. Whenever someone tried to get in his favour, whenever anyone lied to his face without a second of hesitation, Dean knew. All the servants that pretended they didn't hate their job, the slowly simmering hate between his parents, everything. He knew how they really felt, and all the courteous bullshit in the world couldn't stop that from happening. The only person he couldn't read was himself.

And even then, he hadn't reached the biggest problem. Something was wrong with the emperor.

He wasn't sick or anything, and unlike his predecessor, he hadn't been slaughtered by arcane assassins. No, on the surface, the emperor was perfectly alright. Except for the part where his emotional make-up was the same as that of an opium addict, or an alcoholic. But instead of a desperate commoner doing anything for his next fix, the emperor looked that way during the process of politics, as if the only thing that could give the man his next fix was the denouncing of Protestants.

The weird thing, of course, was that the biggest difference between the current emperor and the previous one was the current emperor's reputation for religious tolerance.

Thus, Dean found himself on the road, traveling southwest through the badlands. Those areas where the Ottomans and the Europeans fought their skirmishes.

It was, theoretically at least, a war. In practice however, both sides were too afraid of the enemies magical abilities to really attack. Thus, they limited themselves raided each other's territories, creating new empowered individuals in the process. Thus, small city-states, protected by single individuals or small groups, dotted the landscape.

The strangest thing was, where one would expect a cacophonous anarchy to appear in such a situation, most of the newly empowered seemed content to protect their hometown, and do little more. This meant they wouldn't band together, but banditry was impossible as well. After all, one never knew if his next target could make the ground split beneath your feet. Perhaps it was the naturally docile nature of the peasant, to stay in place and protect what little he had. Perhaps, it was quite simply so that the locals had had enough of war, and collectively decided not to practice it anymore.

The end result, was that whenever the Ottomans and the Europeans wanted to fight, they'd have to make the long trek through what was almost ironically the badlands. The route was safe, sure, until you made a single mistake and started stealing from the locals. It was perhaps the strangest peace of all.

It was through this land, that Dean travelled. On his own, he had long since shaken the followers his political opponents and allies had send after him. Spy-craft was difficult to practice if your opponent could see your true emotions. His horse trotted along in rhythmic motion, and he couldn't help but enjoy the rustic environment. It helped him cope with his decision, to find the heathen goddess and ask her for help.

The border of the Ottoman Empire proper had been well-guarded, but properly placed bribes had helped him drastically. Now, he found himself ever closer to his goal. Hidden on all sides by the mountains of Greece, he made his way forward.

In his mind, he compared himself to the heroes of old, which had often made the same journey, although from less far away. Had it been a simple thing for them? To travel the path to one who was in contact with the god of light? For them, it was at least consistent with their views. To seek answers from the gods in times of need.

For him, however… He used to think himself a good Catholic. He went to church, he prayed, he refrained from sinning. But so did the Protestants. And how could he ask god for help if god was at the core of the conflict? If god had wanted the problem solved, would he not simply appear and tell everyone which interpretation was correct?

The solution, then, was to look away from god, to go to another place for answers. And everyone knew, if you needed answers, you went to Delphi.

For a thousand years, the area had been completely empty. Now, however, a new Pythia had appeared. Reports spoke of a young girl, exclaiming the future, or at least a potential future. Was she truly divinely inspired? Or was she like him, simply someone with unnatural abilities? But then, did not those abilities come from god? The church's opinion was that those abilities of their loyal warrior-saints were divinely inspired, while others were by necessity satanic in nature. Yet he knew of people who had either left, or joined, the warrior-saints. Did the nature of their abilities change in the meantime? Were powers completely separate from god? Or was everyone wrong, was there a god that no-one knew about? Perhaps the strange spirit Columbus had encountered on his return voyage? He had often suspected that it was that shadowy figure that had unleashed magic upon the world.

Dean's thought process was stopped in its tracks by protestations from his horse. He looked up at the path, suddenly narrowing, going upwards at a steep angle. Someone had carved steps in the stone, but it looked like they were old, half-overgrown yet still visible.

He dismounted, and grabbed some essentials from his saddlebags. It looked like he needed to go the rest of the journey on his feet, at least of the locals could be believed as to the location of the oracle. He booped his faithful steed on the nose, and the animal returned the gesture, glowing with affection, literally. After removing the saddle so the animal could roll around when it wanted to, he continued his journey.

After what seemed like hours of climbing, he looked back at the valley beneath him. Ancient ruins dotted the landscape, reminders of an ancient past, of heroes and monster, kings and armies. The path went further still, winding into the mountain. Something felt weird; the Oracle had always been located in the temple of Apollo, the ruins of which he saw beneath him. So where was the path leading him?

Slowly, carefully, he travelled onwards. With every step he took, he felt he came closer to something important. The plants become more and more prominent, growing along the mountain wall besides him, always offering him proper pathing nonetheless. Slowly, the path started curving into the mountain, and both sides were covered in rocks and outgrowths. Plants he did not recognize started showing up, and eventually, he saw some of them filled with emotions. A massive rose filled with love, a poppy with sorrowful remembrance, and other flowers he didn't recognize, shining in colours he couldn't describe. Eventually, the plant growth surrounded him on all sides. He walked on roots, surrounded by vines, with trees covering the sky. The thick roof of leafs started stopping more and more light, but luminescent plants allowed him to watch his step. Eventually, he noticed that he was surrounded on all sides with rock. He had ventured into a cave without knowing it. The vines and wood were slowly replaced with hauntingly beautiful mushroom-like structures, surrounded by what seemed to be floating orbs of light. On closer inspection, they looked like floating luminescent dandelions.

"An Austrian princeling? You've come a long way for answers." A voice called out. Male, he noticed, and hauntingly beautiful, almost otherworldly.

"Hello? Are you the oracle?" he called out. Normally, he would've been able to quickly locate the owner of his voice with his magical vision, but the plants themselves were filled with emotions here, obscuring his sight.

"No, simply one of her friends, sharing her goals." The voice repeated.

"I'd like to speak to the oracle? Can I speak to her?" he asked.

"Of course, of course, that is why you here. But what is it that you seek? The future? Knowledge of the arcane? Advice?" The voice said. Searching, Dean finally found its source, a man standing next to one of the mushroom-trees, wearing a garnment of otherworldly leaves.

"I… I don't know. All three? Whatever will work? I'm trying to stop a war from happening, but I don't know where to start."

"Guidance then, with a helping of the other two. Come, follow me." The man said, gesturing for him to follow. Dean was quite sure that the only reason he had spotted the man was that the man had wanted to be spotted. Nevertheless, he followed.

Dinah shifted in her stone seat. The young man was finally here, and after more than a hundred years, the first real conflict would finally begin.

Some would die, others would live. That much was inevitable. The question was, who would die, and why? What was the lesson the inhabitants of earth would learn from all this? Would they be driven towards eternal peace after seeing the true horrors of war? Would they learn that conflict was inevitable when one attempted to fight evil? Would they find a new answer to the questions of life?

She looked around the chamber again. It was round, roughly ten steps across. She was sitting on a stone in the lotus position, and the stone itself was surrounded by a tiny lake, several steps across. To the outside observer, it was impossible to see how she'd gotten to the stone without getting wet. Three-quarters of the walls of the cave were covered in waterfalls, most of the water immediately flowing away before entering the lake proper. The last part was both the entrance, and a standing area for her supplicants would stand. The cave was lit by luminescent vines around the entrance and glowing waterlilies, as well as a few of Barrow's otherworldly spirits.

She was semi-translucent white gown, complete with a veil over her head. Her long blonde hair was in a braid at the front. Breathing in, she prepared herself for her visitor, readying her spooky oracle voice.

Sure, she could simply tell the supplicants what they needed to know, but that was no fun at all wasn't it? Plus, a touch of mysticism could only help, god had uncovered some more unconventional principles in his journey of redemption.

That had been the greatest surprise since attaining her abilities. God, he preferred the name Abaddon, had come to her, in the shape of a man made out of darkness, filled with stars. It hadn't been his true form, she knew that. She'd seen his true form. Immensely magnificent, endlessly folding in on itself. He had touched her, unleashing her full abilities, expanding her mind to comprehend. Then, he had explained his plan.

Abaddon was a god of many things, but he was first of all the god of redemption. In addition to that, he was a god of magic, of knowledge, and of infinity.

She wasn't quite sure about all he had explained to her. He had shown her an alternative, a world of steel, concrete and glass, a world in which a snake slowly chocked the life out of her, something not entirely metaphorical.

In that other world, the future had been visible. His prey, Abbadon said, had been afraid, paranoid, and rightfully so. They took care to know in advance what would happen, so that they could keep themselves safe. However, there was a flaw in this. Their methods created a future they could always predict, thus, a future that held no new knowledge. It was counterproductive to their overall goal, to fight the end of everything.

Then, Abaddon had explained his past, and asked for forgiveness. She had given it, and he had shown her the way to Barrow and his, quite literally, otherworldly forest. Together, they had build a reputation, and slowly started manipulating the world, aiming for the world she could not see. That could not be seen.

She had aimed a Dragon at the east, with dreams of a thousand year empire. She had taken a vengeful widow, and turned her into a well-aimed assassin. She met a woman who's youth had been ravaged by war, and turned her into the de-facto ruler of an empire. All to aim for the void, the first conflict from which a new future would spawn.

It wouldn't be entirely fair for the others, the man that thought he split reality would be annoyed, but the woman that saw a half-dozen fake futures would probably by all right.

She heard the footsteps approaching, and prepared to give her final true prophecy. At least until after this was done. She had no idea how long the conflict would rage, but she was quite sure time didn't affect her like it did normal people. After all, she'd been here for at least twenty years and still looked like a twelve year old. Still was one, in many ways. Whether that had been Abbadon's modifications, or Barrow's influence, she didn't know.

The young man walked in. Dean von Habsburg. He was worried about the emperor, about the imminent war, about betraying his religion, and also about those things all teenage boys worried about.

"Are you the oracle?" he asked.

An obvious question, one she could've answered without abilities. She closed her eyes, and started humming softly, before speaking up.

"Some call me by that name."

317 out of 320 that he would get annoyed by the worldplay.

"I… I had some questions." He asked, stammering. He wasn't used to being unsure of himself, having been brought up the way he was.

"Why else would you be here?"

"Please this is serious… I think I need to stop a war."

13 out of 17 that he would notice something off about her emotional state. Too bad, she liked toying with the supplicants, but Dean would notice she was just having fun at his expense.

She opened her eyes, looking straight into Dean.

"And what exactly gives you the right to stop it?" she asked. Dead serious.

"I… how can you say that? People will die! Fathers will lose their sons to bloodshed! Mothers will see their daughters raped and murdered. Innocents will die by the thousands! The hopes and dreams of everyone caught in the conflict will be extinguished!"

In all honesty, she liked the speech. The boy had strong convictions.

"And without war, there is no bloodshed? Women don't get raped? Innocents don't die of starvation and exposure? The poor are able to fulfil their dreams?"

The boy was silent, unsure of what to say. She idly wondered what he would see in her emotions at this moment. She'd had this conversation before, but she'd always been able to steer people towards the superior path. Now, she would lead him directly into the path she knew nothing about.

"Tell me Dean, are you happy with the way things are? Are you content with the world as it is?"

The boy stood in silence. Dinah had cheated, used knowledge she shouldn't have had. She had looked into the future to different meetings with the young man, seen what was inside of him that way. She had grown close to him, became a confidante, only to abuse the knowledge before they'd even met. He wasn't happy with the way things were, at least deep inside. Sure, he told himself that it was simply the way things were, but the boy had a rebellious streak in him, one that had given Lustrum cause to spare him.

"No…" he replied.

"Then what is worse, one war to end all wars, a clash of ideas and ideologies, or a thousand years of quiet, slow suffering? If there is to be a war, should you not endeavour to be victorious instead?"

She could see the future start to unfold. The emperor would start his persecutions, guided by a longing for power. The north would retaliate and assist their brethren in faith. The ancient rivals would unleash horrific weapons of war, cities would rise and fall amongst diseases of the body and the mind. Eventually, Dean would lead his family, and become like the emperors of old, surrounded by a harem of powerful women that was kept in check with his charm and his powers. The ruler of insects, the princess of knowledge, the awesome queen, the saint of life, the duchess of the wilds and the mistress of steel.

Eventually, when he realized that his victory had been pyrrhic, and that he ruled only a ruined continent, the dragon of flesh would arrive from the east, only to be met by a dragon of steel. Their fight would end in catastrophe, and the people would not have learned their lesson, instead regressing into barbarism like they so often did after a damaging conflict.

It was completely predictable, a safe path. Two steps forward, one step back. Then two more steps forward until they reached the stars

Now, to destroy that future.

"Really Dean? You would join your family in the hopes that war would change them for the better? Do you not know what they truly are inside?"

It was like the sound of shattering glass, the futures in front of her eyes broke down, replaced by others, obscured futures that were difficult to see. The same players, playing a different game.

She could even see a few new players approaching from the shadows, players that were wrong. Players that served the snake, filled with dead parasites.

She was only dimly aware of the sound of her body hitting the water, and as Dean lifted her body out of the water, her world went black.

 **Interlude: The scientific method.**  
The geographic record, geological distributions, the existence of mountain ranges and volcanoes, the global distribution of species, it all just made so much sense! The earth wasn't static! It was preposterous to even say so. Why was it that the same group of people that believed that god could flood the entire world, would at the same time refuse to believe that continents could move?

It all made sense, the math worked out, but no-one believed him. Half his letters were ignored, the other half were dismissive and told him to go over his notes again, pretending that the result would be different when he did his calculations for the second time.

Why couldn't they simply understand?

Everyone laughed at him, told their children not to talk to the funny man that thinks the earth moves beneath his feet. It pained him, but he had a plan.

After all, if the world had moved in the past, it could move in the future. By association, if the world moved in the future, it would only be logical to assume that it would also have moved in the past.

Thus, if he made the world move beneath his feet, people would believe him.

But, he needed something big, something that could not be denied by the sceptics.

Thus, his position at Calais, where the channel was smallest.

He paced through his laboratory, observing his equipment. The great steel pistons, the solar battery he had used to strike his first hole, the geo-generator, drawing power from the core itself through the vent he had created, all in preparation.

The ancient philosopher Archimedes had said that, given a place to stand and a lever, he could move the whole world. Everett would put it to the test.

Instead of a lever, he had a geokinetic torsion device. As a place to stand, his tidal link would bind the torsion device to the moon on a semi-metaphorical level. To show that he could move the world, he would reduce the channel to a smooth walkway. Then, as French troops invaded Britain by land, queen Amelia would hail him a national hero, and everyone would take him seriously.

Everett would show the world the truth about tectonic plates by creating his own. Science would prevail!

 **Interlude: The Iron Bastards.**

Kayden, father's current mistress, was walking around the room, holding little Aster to her, trying to keep her from crying.

Normally, father would get annoyed when Aster cried. With the mood he was in right now, he just might get violent. On one hand, Theo was glad that he generally was not father's main target, on the other, seeing what the man did to others was not enjoyable either. At least he wasn't in the room right now, instead talking to grandfather and a few retainers in the room below them.

They weren't staying in the palace. At least, the four of them weren't. Mistresses and bastards weren't welcome in the palace, grandfather had declared. He wanted an alliance with the Danish king, and showing of his son's immoral activities didn't fit with that.

Something had gone wrong though. The first day, grandfather had been happy, even though father been in a foul mood and immediately gotten busy with Kayden upon returning. The following day, something had happened that had grandfather shocked.

Theo had absolutely no idea what was happening, and no-one was about to share that information with him. He was a useless bastard, an ugly reminder of one of his father's first conquests. Not as hated as his half-sister, but not well-liked either.

The shouting from downstairs continued. It came from the ground floor of the building, a house in the middle of the city that they'd hired for their stay.. Father was yelling to one of his retainers. Trying to ignore the shouting, Theo continued reading his book.

Grandfather had disapproved of his habit, had said that it took an Italian to transform something as noble as a book into a device that rotted the brain, but Theo disagreed.

Sure, he was useless, fat, powerless, and a bastard to add. But Bodega? The main character of "Bodega and the Splargh-Barons of the Omnitron Galaxy" ? He was amazing, a real hero that didn't need supernatural powers to stand on his own. With nothing but his trusty lightslinger, Bodega outsmarted everything from Martian Temptress-witches to the shape shifting cyberwolves of the Viltrax system.

Alas, Bodega didn't really exist, he just came from the mind of some Italian writer, just like all the other things in those books.

Although… could any person really make up that many different things? Sure, the stories themselves seemed wholly ridiculous, but the places? The people? They were as detailed, if not more so, then history books. Plus, if peop0le had the ability to create metal from nothing, like his father, then stuff like Planet X, where alien parasites that ate your body from the inside dwelled, weren't really that far-fetched.

Below him, he heard his father's yelling become louder, more inconsistent. The man was drinking, again. He looked around the room. Kayden had somehow managed to get Aster to fall asleep, but there was still no sign of his half-sister. He could only hope she returned before father did. If father found out what kind of secret his daughter had kept from him, especially in this foul of a mood. Theo really didn't want to see that happen.

Again, he hated himself. Why was he so selfish? When thinking about father beating Sophia, the only thing he thought of was being forced to watch. Why was he so pathetic? Why could he be more like the heroes in his books? If only he had an ability, something that would mark him a true Anders…

Flames and shadows merged together in a beautiful harmony, one flowing into the other. The burning building was a symphony of light and dark, exhilarating, magnificent. Everything her father despised.

Sophia observed the people in front of the building from her perch on the roofs. She recognized the Overman, a famous street-performer, who was said to have supernatural skill in anything he did.

She disagreed. Sure, the man was good, but he was only human. He couldn't do what she could, what her father could, and what the African boy could do.

She looked at him, and felt something stir inside. He was muscular, with a strong jaw, and had a determined look on his face. He moved like a warrior, with sure strides. He had removed his shirt to check for burns, giving Sophia quite a view indeed.

The little girl next to him was probably his sister or something, so what about the German girl? His wife? A travelling companion? It didn't matter, Sophia felt jealous anyway. To be able to travel freely, to see the world, to fit in. She could never have that.

She was a mutt, a halfbreed, born of southern witchcraft. Her father had made that very clear. He had also been rather inconsistent on the issue.

The man had been conflicted. On one hand, he hated everything that didn't look like him, think like him, and act like him. He hated peasants, women, Jews, Catholics, scholars and blacks. She was quite sure the man also hated Orientals, but she had never heard him exclaim that specifically.

Yet still, the man had somehow fallen in love with her mother on his travels. And when her mother had gotten pregnant, he'd been unable to figure out the flaws in his thinking.

Thus, he had constructed the story that her mother had been a witch, that had stolen his mind and forced him to love her. He had wanted to kill her for that, but grandfather had told him it was a sin to kill a pregnant woman, no matter what.

At least that was the story father told everyone. Sophia knew it wasn't true. Sometimes, when father was drunk, but not angry drunk, he'd tell her she was beautiful, just like her mother. He'd tell her tales of her mother's homeland. Of witch-doctors and the murdering night. Of shamans who could wear the skin of exotic beasts and turn into them. When it came up, father would claim to have forgotten, but Sophia knew that, deep inside, her father loved her. He just… he had problems.

Slowly, the black smoke started disappearing, and the flames went down under a torrent of buckets. Sophia left, the show was over. Shifting into shadows, she ran over the roofs of Copenhagen, the city sleeping below her. Maybe when she got home, father would have calmed down. Maybe he wouldn't. He probably wouldn't. After all, it didn't seem like the alliance would work out. The girl grandfather had hoped on marrying had ran away from home, disappearing into the city with her bodyguard, and father had claimed he didn't like any of the other candidates.

All of this, of course, hadn't been meant for her ears. Still, if you could turn into a cloud of shadows and move through walls unnoticed, it was easy to overhear things you weren't meant to know.

Theo knew about her abilities, she'd told him shortly after getting them. He'd advised her not to tell father. After all, turning into a shadow didn't have anything to do with iron, and it was suspicious that she'd gotten abilities that had nothing to do with her father's. Apparently, magical powers could be inherited sometimes, and they would be similar, like grandfather's and father's powers, or her aunt's. If father thought that he wasn't her father, there was no telling what he would do.

The alternative, of course, was that she'd gotten her powers from her mother. While she wasn't quite sure if her mother had had powers, father did refer to her as a witch quite often. Though she suspected that was because of her behaviour, not her abilities.

Sophia heard a scream, interrupting her train of thought. Adjusting her trajectory, she rushed towards it, eventually seeing a small alley between two buildings.

Two people, a man and a woman. She was quite certain the woman was a prostitute, selling her body for money. No-one else would wear clothes that revealing. Or rather, not wear them, the man had removed them against her will.

She wondered for a second. If a man raped a prostitute, was that rape, or theft? Or was it both? This wasn't really the time though. Sure, the woman was pathetic, not even really fighting of the man, but she was still a victim. Even if she fought back more, it probably wouldn't help her. Probably. She was, after all, a victim, something to whom stuff happened. Like her brother Theodore, who, try as he might, would probably never amount to anything.

Sophia wasn't like that, she wasn't a victim. Stuff didn't happen to her, instead, she made stuff happen. Like her father, like the smoke-man she'd seen earlier that night.

She changed into a shadow, and jumped, landing behind the assailant. The man didn't even notice her until she kicked him in the back of his knee, making him fall over in pain. She looked at the little shit, delighting in the look of pain and surprise on his face, and smiled.

Even though Theo had his doubts, Sophia knew she was her father's daughter. After all, even though her idea of acceptable targets was different, they both liked hurting people.

 **Interlude: The queen of Poland**

Green hills and forests flowed beneath her, the individual branches almost entirely invisible at the speed with which she was flying. The sky was dark, and rain was pouring down.

If it wasn't for her force field, the impact of the water would have hurt. Now, it was mostly just the noise and low visibility that annoyed her.

It didn't matter, she was in a hurry. The message had been three days old when it arrived in the capital.

Eventually, the forests gave way to farmland, fields of grass that were now unattended, she spotted animals walking around, no-one left to attend them.

Whatever it was, it had left the animals alone. That was either really good news, or really bad news. Good, if that meant the situation was under control. Bad, if there was actual malice involved, rather than just savagery.

Then, she noticed the camp. Tents, half destroyed from fighting. Ash and scorch marks, from where cooking fires had gotten out of control, and almost no movement.

She landed on her feet. There was no audience here, and more importantly, no time. She had responsibilities now, to her country, her people.

Slowly floating, about half a foot above the mud, she entered the camp. It didn't take long before she found the first corpse.

The soldier had died a bloody death. His armour plates had been ripped apart, from the inside. Blood and organs were lying around, some of them half-eaten. Deep tracks were visible in the mud, he had crawled here. The mud and rain made it difficult to see more than that

Combining this with the initial reports… It seemed to be some sort of parasite, eating its prey from the inside out.

As she made her way further into the camp, she encountered more corpses. Some had external wounds, created by a slicing weapon she didn't recognize.

A few minutes later, she found what had been capable of slicing like that.

The beast's corpse looked, quite simply, wrong. Limbs jutting out at wrong angle, an odd, black-ish colour on the smooth, almost metallic skin. It was lying on top of another dead soldier, and it seemed that the blood had somehow burned through the soldier below it.

She lifted it up. It was bigger than suggested by the message. Did they grow by eating people? But then, why wouldn't they eat the cattle? Perhaps they'd been designed to expire after a few days. Place them in enemy territory, wait for them to slaughter everyone there, and return when the area had been thoroughly depopulated.

She scouted further, flaring up her aura. Anyone left alive would feel it, their reaction depending upon their allegiance.

Standing still in the air, she waited, trying to see if she could see anything moving around. Eventually, she spotted something through the rain, something moving inside a tent.

She edged closer, on her guard. She couldn't quite make out what was happening through the downpour, but there was a silhouette of a person standing there.

"Your Majesty?" the figure said, groaning in pain.

She moved closer, and saw that the man was a soldier. There were acid burns all over his armour, and one on his face as well. A wound in his stomach was seeping with blood, though it wasn't enough blood for the apparent depth of the wound.

She took a second look at the man's face. Besides the acid burn on his check, there was more blood. There were some barely noticeable scrapes and cuts around his mouth.

The poor man. Boy really, he looked to be about her age. Just barely grown up.

"What happened, soldier?" she asked, trying to put extra empathy in her voice. Her power and her position meant people looked up to her, worshipped her almost. It was useful, but it wouldn't help the young man relax.

"We arrived… and…" The man was hurt, and had difficulty talking. "The people in town, they were all dead. These… insect things, they crawled out of the corpses… I…" The man's arms went to his chest, like he'd felt something move.

Queen Victoria moved closer, relying on her force-field to protect her. She'd figured out what was going on. She embraced the young soldier.

"It… I can feel it moving… inside…" the poor man said.

She pulled the young soldier in closer, floating slightly so his head would be resting on her bosom. She knew guys liked that kind of stuff, and it was the least she could do.

She held one hand on his head, the other at his back, knowing what she would have to do.

"You served your country well, soldier, it is time to rest now, and the pain will soon be over, go, and be with god."

As the soldier let out a small cry, she could feel the thing scratching at his back, from the inside.

Quickly, before she lost her courage, she crushed the back of the man's head in her hand, then, when he couldn't feel the pain any more, she used her other hand to crush his torso, grabbing at the thing inside.

She held the beast in her hands. It looked like a mutated insect, but larger, more beastlike. It had claws, scythe-like appendages, a stinger, and a massive jaw. It looked fat with the flesh of the poor soldier. She laid his body on the ground, and flew forward, looking for a pond or river to wash the beast, and get a better look at what was under all the blood and grime.

In the end, it turned out it wasn't very useful. The skin was smooth and strong, but held no marks, resembled nothing she'd seen before. Perhaps it could be used for armour, once removed from the creature, but it told her nothing about how to fight them. Perhaps she could bring it to a natural philosopher who could find out how it worked, but she would need to transport it somehow, she had the feeling that those scythe-like appendages would cut right through most cages. Her force-field kept her safe, but others would not be so lucky.

She flew upwards, trying to take stock of the situation. The rain had slowly started receding, and she had some visibility now. She could see the village, a farming community, and the camp the soldiers had set up nearby. She started searching in a spiral pattern around the village, critter still in her hands. If there were any outlying farmers or some such, she needed to warn them.

She found one little farm building, emptied already, before she saw them approaching. Hussars, decorative wings on their backs. Originally based upon a Serbian concept, the Hussars had recently changed from their original role as light, manoeuvrable cavalry, into a specialty squad equipped for just this sort of situation. Trained to fight the supernatural, using a great variety of equipment and tactics, adapting to the enemy at hand.

She floated down in front of the 100-man squad, and as they noticed her approaching, they dismounted and knelt down.

The commander made his way forward, looking with suspicion at the creature in her hands.

"Your majesty. Nice to see you showed up, your wish, is our command." The commander said with a cheeky smile on his face.

"First of all, Eric, I need something to keep this creature captured." She replied. Quickly, her cousin constructed a force-field cage around it. They'd need a better solution, but this would do for now. "Then, set up camp somewhere around here, I've done some scouting on the situation, and we should approach with caution. Also, I need a hot bath and some dry clothes, it's cold out here."

The Hussars started moving, looking for a proper place to camp. In the meantime, she walked forward and hugged the loveable idiot that was her cousin. He grumbled every now and then that she should get her husband to find Eric a beautiful princess to marry, but she knew he was happy with his position at the head of the most prestigious military unit in the Kingdom of Poland and the Grand Duchy of Lithuania.

"Any ideas on what to do with the creature, Eric?" she asked.

"I'm not quite sure… we don't have anyone specializing in Biology in the kingdom, so we'd have to look somewhere else. I've heard about a man creating life from scratch up north, in Sweden. Perhaps he could help?"

"Perhaps… I'd have to ask king Gustav, it's his country after all. And he's a protestant. Still, it is said he is a good man, if we explain the situation…"

"Perhaps… still, most of that is your husband's job isn't it?" he answered.

"True enough. Come, let us talk tactics, we'll decide what to do with the creature afterwards."


	14. Chapter 11: Lisa, princess on the run

**Chapter 11: Lisa, princess on the run.**

The ship cut through the water like a metaphor through a group of very literal people. The clouds of pure darkness had dissipated a while ago, and we were well on our way to Sweden.

The real question was, why did they want to go to Sweden?

The smugglers, that was easy, given taxes, relative prices of goods, the size of the ship and its depth in the water, I was pretty sure it wasn't anything too dangerous. The three youngsters though…

They had a reason, I knew that, and that reason was not their actual reason, but it was still important that they did it. So it was a task that needed doing, but was not actually so important that it required sending two empowered individuals, as well as a little sister.

The youngest girl was the important clue there. She obviously did not have any abilities beyond those of a very gregarious young girl that spend a lot of time on the streets. Given the way she acted, her probable penchant for slight misbehaviour, the way her brother acted far too protective to bring her along on a journey, she probably tricked her way into joining them on their travels.

So that explained one of them, the other two though…

Brian could create clouds of darkness, and spoke with a slight accent, he was probably from a plantation in a colony or something. Then, he'd gotten his abilities, and escaped together with his sister. He'd then arrived in Europe for some reason, and seemed to have established himself. Someone had helped them with that.

Combine that with Taylor's German accent, and the general cut of their clothes, and it became obvious they were from some city and upper Germany. Probably one of the Hansa cities, they didn't look like people who interacted with nobility all too often, that much was clear from their behaviour.

So, given that, they worked for someone important, but not too important. Given their general nonchalance, Aisha joining them on their trip, it was someone that obviously cared about them, but was pragmatic enough to use their abilities when it was necessary. That meant that it couldn't be the mayor of Lübeck. The man was far too impersonal, his mind more like that of a mechanical chess-set, purely purpose driven. Hamburg then? Hadn't something happened there recently? I'd heard rumours about Anglican witches there, that meant destruction, which would explain Taylor's state of mind. Had she gained her abilities during that attack?

No, no that doesn't fit. I know that. There's more distance. Not much, but some. Something happened before that.

I just didn't have enough information.

"What are you thinking about?" Katherine asked.

"Our travelling companions." I replied

"You think they're dangerous?" she asked.

"Yes, no, not to us, at least not right now. In general though? I'm pretty sure T there could lay waste to armies if she wanted to."

"You think I can beat her?" she asked, always trying to protect me. I'd just told her they weren't dangerous to us, but it wasn't like she trusted me on that.

"Probably, if you manage to find her first. I'm not exactly sure about her limits, but she needs prep-time. Anyway, let's go talk to her. Remember, it's just Lisa and Kat now, two girls on the road for no particular reason."

"Of course your highness." She joked back.

The insubordinate subordinate, always loyal, always snarky, you could write a great amount of stories about people like that.

We walked towards Taylor, who was leaning over the side of the deck, trying not to throw up again. She was obviously seasick.

"So, what's the Wallis mansion like?" I asked her.

She looked up in surprise, "How did you…?"

"You just told us." Kat said.

"Also, I'm pretty good at guessing stuff like that." I added.

She still looked sceptical. "That's a pretty good trick." She replied.

"I know, thanks." I told her, smiling.

"So, you're a runaway princess right?" She asked.

"Nope, not going to work." I replied. It was a cute attempt, using my own strategy against me, but I knew how to counter it.

"Oh, right, because Mars doesn't have royalty?" she continued, this time being much further from the mark.

"We're not Martians either. Also, why wouldn't they have royalty?" Kat asked.

"Because Mars is obviously a republic, you know, like the Romans." Taylor said.

"Yeah, but the Romans had an empire too." Kat replied, trying to win the debate.

"But the Empire fell. So it's obviously a republic again." Taylor said.

Mars, of course, was completely devoid of life, given its colouring and lack of visible surface water. Perhaps there could be non-standard life forms, but those wouldn't have the same type of societies that…

Ah, yes, the metaphorical audience is now telling me about life on mars. Of course, because that is rather useful in the current situation.

Speaking of uselessness. Perhaps… Could I ask the audience what was going on with this entire supernatural ability thing? What even was its purpose, why did people get them? Was the voice in my head feeding me information also an ability?

…

Silence. Or at least mostly silence. Taylor and Kat were still arguing about Martian Monarchies, referring different books that I didn't even know Kat had read. Stories from different societies, stories drawn from nowhere the same way some people created fire or steel.

The same way that natural philosophers drew knowledge from nowhere.

Was I on to something here? I had knowledge from nowhere, writers had knowledge from nowhere, witches had magic from nowhere, people like Richter, Wallis or Gramme created strange wondrous technological marvels from almost nothing. There was no natural progression in at least some of their work.

Where they, and me, simply using a different kind of magic? Did we draw from an analogous power source for our knowledge? Many abilities were controlled by thoughts. Kat could turn on hers by simply thinking about it, so there was already an established interface with the mind.

That meant I wasn't going crazy listening to voices in my head, I simply had the supernatural ability to hear voices in my head.

Sure, that wasn't much better in the larger scheme of things, but it explained a lot. Or, at least, some things. It explained the link between magical abilities, stranger and stranger fictional stories, and technological improvements. It probably had something to do with the figure that Columbus reported seeing soaring above the ocean, so many years ago when it had all started.

Taylor and Kat were still arguing. They had decided that, while there was definitely a republic on Mars, that didn't necessarily mean that there weren't also monarchies on Mars. They were now arguing about whether or not those were analogous to human monarchies or not. Taylor thought they were more like insect queens, because sometimes you needed to follow the stereotype, and Kat claimed that it was a lot like lions, with one king ruling over many subjects by virtue of his strength, rather than by blood. That wasn't exactly how lions worked, but that didn't matter.

I looked over the ocean, noticing a small wobble at the horizon, it was weird, almost unnoticeable in the darkness, but there was most definitely something moving on the distant coast that was now almost out of sight. Sure, it was difficult to see in the darkness, but something was happening.

"Hey, girls, did you see that?" I asked, pointing.

 _Earthquake,_ the magical voice in my head told me.

 _Big earthquake._

 _Artificial earthquake._

 _Earthquake in an area not normally associated with earthquakes._

 _Tremendous force required to create earthquake._

 _Denmark not main target of the artificial earthquake._

 _Tidal wave possible._

Taylor and Kat were still trying to see what it was that I had pointed at when the smugglers started shouting, pointing somewhere.

Upwards.

I looked, my eyes going up.

A small crack had appeared in the moon, a jagged line right through the middle.

 _Moon was the power source. Tidal link based on largely metaphorical properties._

 _Action equals minus reaction. Crack in moon to squish part of the earth._

 _Earthsquish intentional. Bringing two points closer together._

 _Chaotic process, not controllable, not for friendly purposes._

 _Bringing to points closer together along a line for purpose of war in Northern Europe, to the west of current location given movement of earthquake_

"Girls, I think England and France are at war again." I said.

"The moon just broke in two and somehow that means they're at war?" Taylor asked, incredulous.

Brian woke up from where he was sleeping, and walked over.

"Girls, what's that commotion about."

"Moon broke." Kat replied, as if it was an everyday occurrence.

"France destroyed the channel." I added to that.

"Wait, France what? Why would you think that?" he asked.

"Not important. The thing is, you have to go tell the captain there's a tidal wave incoming."

"A tidal wave? Those don't happen here, do they?" Aisha suddenly asked, having appeared from nowhere.

"Neither does the moon break all that often." I replied.

Andrew Richter looked at his newest, and greatest, invention. The ivory mask that was its face hid its capability to experience the entire spectrum of human emotion and feeling. Behind it was a near infinite array of gears, knobs and springs, all reacting to each other in much the same way as the neurons in the human brain did. Its arms and legs capable of all the movements of mankind. He had not even turned it on yet, but he was already quite certain that it would know how to feel love. The only difference between his machine and a real woman was the capacity to bear new life. And with enough time, he was quite sure he could solve that problem as well.

He looked out over the environment, the small island he had secluded himself in, having bought off even the shepherd that used to make his home here. It was a beautiful night, beautiful enough to be her first night on this world. The stars were sparkling in the void, and the moon was placed high in the sky. It reminded him of nothing as much as his late wife. Soon, he would not need to miss her anymore.

He turned his perfect clockwork doll around, and took hold of the small key halfway inserted into its back. He turned it around, three times, until he heard the clockwork mechanism inside give a small click. Then, he pulled out the key, activating his clockwork bride. The key, he hid in his pockets. It was a safety mechanism, designed to take down its creation if it ever went out of control.

While its back was still turned to him, he could see it slowly come to life. At first, the head started moving a bit, side to side, twisting itself at a slight angle. It was processing its photonic detectors, what would be called eyes if it were alive, seeing how movement of the head changed the detected signals. Then, it started moving its arms and legs, exploring its ability to move its body and influence the world. He saw its fingers moving independently, eventually grabbing hold of its dress, studying the fabric and the fingers themselves, the lace of his wife's old dress flowing beneath the ceramic plates of its fingers, the gears only just visible on the inside of the joints.

Then, slowly, his creation turned around, clumsily, but carefully. How quickly it was learning. He looked at it, the ivory mask reminding him so very much of Margaret's face. Her dress, the delicate movement of her fingers, and those eyes. Her eyes were at the same time cold and mechanical, hauntingly beautiful, and so full of life and wonder. He felt his heart rekindle, tears filling his eyes. It was just like her, he could finally have her back, at long last.

He felt the soft touch of one of her fingers on his cheek, touching one of the tears. Then, she removed her finger, and inspected the liquid with her eyes.

Her mouth opened, and started producing sound. At first, it was just random noises, the clockwork brain not knowing how to produce the sounds it required. Soon, it started producing the purest of musical notes, going through the octaves, trying to create all the sounds it wanted to.

Then, when it was done, she spoke.

"Father, why are you crying?" The words came, the sad tone if her voice not matching her almost unmoving face

Father, she had said.

Father.

Not' Andrew', or 'Andy'. She hadn't said 'my love', or 'my little hugosauros'.

After all this work, he had not brought his wife back to life. Instead, he had created a daughter.

Not even that. It couldn't be a daughter. He was a man, he couldn't create life. He had created a machine, an unthinking simulation of life that only pretended to be a person.

"Look father, the moon is full. Will there be monsters?" the clockwork asked.

"No, there is no such thing." he replied, not quite sure of himself.

For there were surely monsters, he realized. One of them was standing in front of him. Andrew looked in front of him at the cold mixture of bronze, ceramic and steel. He had created a mockery of life, with its innocent eyes and childlike glee at the world around it.

The iron creature spun around in its place, it looked at its feet, and knelt down, inspecting one of the flowers that grew beneath it.

He grabbed the safety mechanism out of his pocket, readying himself to destroy his monstrous creations. He had laboured for years on this project.

"Father, what is that?" it asked, reaching out with a hand.

"Nothing dear, nothing to worry about." He answered, taking a few steps back.

"Father, I wish to see!" it said, now curious, wanting to know what he wouldn't tell it.

"Stay away from me, automaton." He warned it, holding the key in front of him like a weapon, all the while stepping back some more. He looked behind him. He was nearing the cliff.

"Father, what is wrong?" it asked, coming closer to him, spreading its arms in preparation for a deadly embrace.

"Stay away from me. You… you are a mistake, I should never have made you!" he yelled, walking backwards, closer and closer to the cliff's edge.

The automaton stood still in its place, unsure what to do with itself. The head, an ivory mask surrounded by black curls and covered with a small yet elegant hat, moved back and forth, trying to do something.

"Father." It said again. "Why can't I cry?"

Cry… why would it cry. Was it sad that he was going to deactivate it? Was it trying to trick him into believing it had a soul? Had it already mastered social manipulation in the minutes it had been active.

He stood still in place, not quite sure what to do now, still not entirely ready to destroy his creation, when the ground shook beneath him.

He stumbled, backwards, towards the edge, falling over. He grabbed, trying to hold on, but the ground had come loose beneath his fingers. He felt himself accelerate, the key flying out of his hands, the sea beneath approaching, coming closer and closer.

"Father!" he heard from above, and he looked away from his impending doom. Above him, he saw the ivory face, a hand stretched out, trying to catch him, but far too late to do anything to help him.

For an instant, he felt the cold impact of the rocks, his feet crushed the moment they hit the stone. Then, the rest of his body followed, and the world became dark.

Father had died, and the current had swept away his body. She had only lived for moments, yet her world was falling apart.

On both sides of the island she was on, she could see land in the distance, coming ever closer. The sea was roiling and the ground was shaking beneath her. Above her, the beauty of the moon was marred by an ugly scar.

Her father had hated her, and nothing would ever be good again.

She watched the ground crumble away beneath her, falling down into the sea. The house where father had lived had crumbled, the workshop where she had been made sinking down into the sea. She could even see the stone marker beneath which her mother laid, slowly edging ever closer to the edge of the island, into the sea below.

From the minute she was completed, she had brought devastation upon the world. Father had called her a mistake, an automaton and a monster.

She could not cry.

Her clockwork muscles activated, and the ceramic of her feet only lightly touched the grass as she ran, towards the highest point of the small island.

The sea was swallowing itself, and the world was surely ending. Both to the north and to the south, the land was coming closer every second.

The sound of the sea and crumbling rocks was far louder than her cries of fear and anguish could ever be. The sea below had almost disappeared, flowing away at tremendous speed, and she could see the sea floor crush itself against itself, marred only by the odd shipwreck.

She felt wetness upon her ivory face, and touched it, recognizing those same tears that had come from her father's eyes.

She contained no such system, she knew. So how did they get there?

She looked up, somehow knowing what she would see.

It was a silhouette, a night darker than black, willed with points of light brighter than the brightest star. It looked like a floating man, holding out a hand towards her.

Then, it spoke.

"All shall be well."

She reached out, and clasped his hand, her mind filling with wonder and joy.

Lily ran over the iron roofs, jumping from here to there whenever she needed to, applying her power to the iron in her shoes to get proper grip. Slowly, surely, she made her way into the most heavily guarded area of the city. Below her, the engines slowly rumbled, and in the distance, she could see the mountains slowly moving in the early light of dawn. This had taken longer than she had expected, but it paid off to be careful. She had timed herself perfectly, jumping exactly when no guard would be able to observe her.

She made another jump, attaching herself to the metal tower in front of her, climbing up as fast as she could. Then, when she reached the roof, she saw what she had been looking for.

Lady Bailey's private gardens, just above the main control room. It was beautiful, the small pools, flowers from all over the world, soft music playing in the background. It was here that Lady Bailey of the travelling city welcomed her most important guests.

It was also here that she kept the most precious treasure of all, at least that was the rumour.

It took a few minutes before Lily spotted her, almost drowning in cushions, slaves fanning her with palm leaves and exotic feather fans, feeding her grapes, dates, and other treats. She was dressed only in the finest silk, and guarded by several large creatures formed out of it, almost translucent.

The rumours had been true, Sabah was far more beautiful than she could have ever imagined. And powerful too, if those creatures were hers.

Lily could feel nothing but jealousy for Lady Bailey, to be married to the amazing creature before her would be the purest of bliss. Even just looking at her was worth an entire night of climbing from roof to roof.

She moved forward, to the edge of the roof of the small tower, to get a better look, when the earth shook.

Even with her phenomenal skills, Lily fell down, only managing to slow her fall. She landed on her back in the middle of the pleasure gardens as the earth continued to shake beneath her. She heard the shouting of angry men, the moving of large silken creatures, but she could barely pay attention to those.

For above her, she could see the pale light of the moon, interrupted by a scar down the middle.

Something had broken the moon.


	15. Chapter 12: The Queen and I

"Hey, little miss, are you all right?" A female voice spoke in an unfamiliar accent. Aisha thought that it was a very nice voice, and that the person it was attached to was probably quite nice as well. Still, it wasn't exactly a voice she knew, and talking with strangers usually ended up with the moon breaking apart and a tidal wave washing you from the ship.

Which, she remembered, was exactly what had happened. So, all things considered, waking up and talking to this strange new voice probably couldn't make things worse. Probably.

She opened her eyes, and noticed that she was still rather wet, having fallen asleep only seconds after pulling herself onto the shore. Aisha looked around, noticing the beach she'd ended up on, driftwood and other such things littering the shore. Probably something to do with that tidal wave.

Confused, she kept looking. Had she imagined the voice? She couldn't see anyone around, and there weren't any footsteps in the sand either. "Hello?" she asked. Was this some sort of ghost or spirit talking to her? Or just someone with the power to be invisible?

"Up here girl." The voice spoke again.

Aisha looked up, and spotted the voices source. It was a young woman, about eighteen years old, floating in the sky. She was wearing an elegant white dress, with red accenting around the edges. Her hair was blonde, so pale it was nearly white, and her face was as captivating as the full moon.

That is, the full moon before someone went ahead and broke it. So the beautiful girl floating above her was now one of a kind.

"Ehmmm, hi there?" Aisha replied.

The woman, or rather lady, she looked important somehow, came down, floating just a bit above the sand.

"So that was indeed German you were speaking in your sleep." She said. "Sorry for eavesdropping by the way, it was rather impolite, but I was wondering what an African girl was doing sleeping on a Swedish beach, what with the tidal wave and everything."

For just a second, Aisha thought about lying to the young lady floating in front of her. Then, she remembered that she had no idea where she was, had no idea where her brother was, had no dry clothes, nor the money with which to buy some, and didn't even know exactly where they'd been going either.

"We were going to Stockholm and I fell of the boat because of the wave." Aisha replied. "Do you know how to get there from here?

The lady's face suddenly changed, becoming sad. After a few seconds, she started talking again.

"Hey, what's your name?" she asked, laying a hand on Aisha's shoulder.

"Aisha…" she replied.

"My name is Victoria, but you can call me Vicky if you want to." the lady said. "Look Aisha, I… I am not sure how to tell you this but, I don't think you're going to find who you are looking for in Stockholm."

"What do you mean?" Aisha asked. Did this woman know something she didn't?

"I… I do not think there are very many ships that survived that wave. At least not here." Vicky said. "I saw a few ships on my way here, but, that was further inland."

"What do you mean? Ships inland? That doesn't make any sense. The only way they'd have gotten there was if the wave had…"

Suddenly, Aisha realized what that meant. Had she gotten lucky, falling of the ship early on and somehow staying afloat until she washed up on the shore? Was Brian… He was strong, sure, but his clouds of darkness would not be able to do anything against a tidal wave.

She felt Victoria grab hold of her, hugging her. "Hey, Aisha. Do you… do you have anywhere to go?"

"I… my brother works for master Wallis, back in Hamburg."

Vicky released her, stepping back a bit. "Collin Wallis? The natural philosopher? Now that's a coincidence, I was heading there myself." She said.

Aisha looked at her, wondering why this mysterious floating lady needed to talk to crazy old Collin. She was wearing a backpack, probably filled with food and clothes for the road, and on the back of her backpack was…

Not entirely sure what else to do, Aisha decided to just start screaming.

Having dealt with that exact thing several times before, Victoria quickly fastened the piece of cloth back around the cage she was carrying, before trying to calm the girl down.

"Look, it is in a cage, it is not going to hurt you, I am just looking for someone who can study it, to tell me how to stop it.

Slowly, Aisha started to calm down. "What the hell is that thing? What even has two mouths like that..."

"Well, that's what I wanted to ask master Wallis, because I have absolutely no idea, and they are attacking my people." Victoria replied.

"What do you mean _my people_?" Aisha asked her.

"Well, you know, the Polish people. Did I not mention that?" Vicky asked.

"Oh…" Aisha said, suddenly remembering a conversation between master Wallis and Brian about some news from the east. "That Victoria…"

"The one and only." She replied. "So, I need a talk with master Wallis, and you need to get home. How about I carry you there and you introduce me to him?"

Aisha wondered about it for a second, carrying her there? They'd taken days travelling here, and that was mostly by ship and coach. But, then again, the invincible queen of Poland could fly, probably at high speeds. They might make it there in, like, a day or something stupid like that. It was almost too good to be true.

"So, how come you're looking for master Wallis, wouldn't someone like mister Andino be a better option, your queenness?" she asked.

"Well, Gustavus is being an annoying little… fucknugget, and I can't really go behind his back because of politics and everything, which means I'm looking for an alternative."

Aisha wondered about it for a bit. "But… aren't the Hansa Protestant too? Won't that cause any problems? I know the emperor is a Catholic, but he's all the way south and… I just realized I don't know all that much about stuff like that?"

"Well, of course, going through the proper diplomatic channels will probably be a long and exhausting process. Which is where you come in. See, I won't just be asking master Wallis for help, I'll be bringing you back home, and there's no way anyone will object to that right? And hey, If I'm already there, might as well ask for help" She replied, smiling. Aisha suddenly realized that behind the veneer of gorgeous innocent young queen with powers was a very shrewd politician, at least if she wanted to be. Vicky was such an absolutely amazing woman…

"But… my brother." Aisha replied, almost forgetting about him in front of Queen Victoria's gloriousness.

"Look Aisha, I know you're worried about your brother, but, if he survived, he'll eventually make his way back home right? And if not, you can always send a letter to wherever he was heading."

"I… Okay." Aisha replied.

Victoria stepped forward, and swept Aisha of her feet, carrying her in her arms. "You ready?"

"Yes" Aisha said, bravely, swallowing down the hesitation she was feeling.

Then, they flew upwards and westwards, back home.


	16. Chapter 13: The Parisian Court

**Chapter 13: The Parisian Court.**

Everett wasn't quite sure what he had expected to happen. The water had receded, the shores of England and France joining together in a violent crashing of earth and water. He just hadn't expected it to be that, well, extreme.

He hadn't imagined that amount of destruction. His laboratory had been half-destroyed, the village he travelled through had been in an uproar. Away from the epicentre, there'd probably been tidal waves. It had been a whole lot of water that had gotten displaced.

He hadn't expected the moon to break either. Sure, he'd used it as a power source. Sure, his calculations had shown that it wouldn't be able to maintain integrity after having give off that much energy, but… that didn't mean he'd really expected it to break apart. It was the moon, it didn't make any sense for a single person to be able to break it.

So, he'd decided to do what any young man in his situation would have done. Get out of there and pretend nothing happened. He'd done his duty for his queen, and now he'd be going to stay with his uncle in Paris for a bit.

Thus, he'd gotten his horse, loaded up some personal belongings, and started moving south.

Which lead him to where he was now, just slowly riding towards Paris, observing how a dozen horses with riders came racing the other way.

Big horses, well-bred, large, fast, with a perfectly black coat. Almost too perfect. He looked further, studying them as they were approaching, and he spotted the colour of their hair. It was golden. Not blonde, but almost exactly the colour gold had.

That, together with the colour of their horses, could only mean one thing. These were the musketeers. The queen's personal guard, her right hand, blessed by god through her hands. Their horses as fast as the wind.

While he hoped they would simply ignore him and continue onwards, he saw that they had started fanning out, getting ready to surround him. He called his horse to a stop, and made sure his hat was properly on his head.

The riders surrounded him, muskets at the ready. Everett knew these were all noblemen, chosen for their loyalty, improved for all eternity to serve France and its queen. Eventually, one of them spoke up.

"You are the one responsible for the earthquake, are you not?"

Everett started to sweat, not quite sure what to say. The man's piercing golden eyes looked like they were inspecting his very soul, it was not a nice feeling. Should he admit guilt? Pretend they had the wrong person? Tell them to escort him to the queen to tell of his great deeds? Eventually, he decided to go with part of the truth.

"I was involved in its generation, yes." He admitted.

The man in charge looked at one of the other musketeers, who nodded. Then, he looked back at Everett.

"The queen wishes to speak to you. You will ride with us." He said.

Knowing he wouldn't be able to escape them anyway, Everett decided to go along with them.

They rode fast, at a speed that was difficult for Everett's horse, but seemed quite slow for the musketeers' steeds. Every now and then, one of the musketeers moved towards the man that seemed to be their commander, and they exchanged a few words.

Eventually, when he saw Paris in the distance, the musketeers suddenly decided to slow down, and eventually stop, standing in a semi-circle around him, leaving a spot open. Their body language made it quite clear that he was supposed to stay where he was, and eventually, the commander of the musketeers told him to dismount.

Shortly after he'd done so, he spotted the reason they'd stopped there.

An angel was flying towards them through the sky, white wings holding his body up. A body that, given weight calculations, was unnaturally light. Or magical, one of the two. Otherwise, the wings wouldn't have been able to support all of the angel's weight.

Eventually, the angel landed in front of him, right in the gap the Musketeers had left. The musketeers made their horses kneel, and Everett made sure to join them while sneaking a peak at the angel.

It was a man, more of a boy really, he was young, supernaturally attractive, a tad feminine. His hair was as pure and white as his wings, his eyes where a penetrating blue, and the pupils were white instead of black. Blessed by god in body and soul, at least that was the official explanation. Everett wasn't quite sure about that. Then again, his expertise as a natural philosopher was in a completely different field, so it wasn't like he had any proper arguments. He'd always thought that natural philosophers shouldn't go outside their field of expertise. Only fools like Wallis or Gramme did that, pretending they knew anything about real Geology.

Then, the angel spoke, the hauntingly divine voices coming from his mouth sharply contrasting the actual words he was using.

"Sup my man?, so, heard down the grapevine you're the guy that broke the channel, that right?"

Flustered, unsure of what to say, Everett stumbled over his words. "Well, I had this theory about geological plates, and like, the British, and they're just not… Look I didn't think it'd break that many things and…"

"Whoa, whoa, cut it out with the science talk, you read too much of that Italian filth or something?" The angel asked him.

"I… no, I find most of that stuff unrealistic and ridiculous, take the giant desert snakes from "Sand-hills" for example, not only are they biologically impossible, but it is preposterous to state that the only method of safe space-travel isn't actually found in earth, I mean, how would they get there in the first place?" Everett replied, his confusion quickly replaced by righteous anger at scientific inaccuracies in Italian pseudo-literature.

"You know what Everett, or can I call you Ev? I don't even care about that technical shit, you can talk to the Regent and his advisors for that stuff. I'm just here to make sure you're not going to, like, explode or something. Have you eaten anything today?" the angel spoke.

"I… no, I've been on the road all day, why do you a-" Everett stopped mid-sentence, his leg having decided to move from beneath him, throwing him to the ground.

The angel looked at him, smiling. "That's good news Ev, means this'll go fast. Just, you know, try to go along with it. The sooner I'm done, the sooner you can talk to the queen and the sooner we can decide what to do with you." He said, while Everett's limbs started twitching in random orders. Eventually, he noticed the angel was flicking his fingers around every time his own body got moved by the external force.

Some magical ability to move the body of others? But what was he doing right now? Everett decided he simply didn't have enough data to make a conclusion just yet. In the meantime, the muscle twitches continued to throw him around. It seemed like the angel was enjoying himself.

"So, Ev, I just remembered I hadn't introduced myself yet." The playful voice came. "Name's Jean-Paul Vasil, one of the youngest of queen Amelia's blessed angels. We're not quite sure about that, because my father wasn't very good at keeping dates, and neither were Olivia's parents. I still think I'm older, because she's an annoying little shit that keeps changing my stuff into soldier which is a completely childish thing to do. Anyway, it's probably kind of a dick move of me to keep pretending this is a conversation while we both know perfectly well that I'll get to work on your jaw the moment you try to get a word in, but as it turns out, I rather like having a captive audience. Also, you should've seen the look on your face just then, changing people's facial muscles to make them do ridiculous things is, like, the best thing ever, don't you think so Porthos?"

One of the musketeers suddenly spoke up, replying to him. "I must admit the effect is rather interesting sir, but wouldn't it be proper to postpone the taunting until after the queen has delivered her judgement?"

Everett, or Ev as he had been dubbed, suddenly realized just how deep a hole he was in. This guy was doing something to his body to make him ready to meet the queen. Sure, he'd wanted to meet the queen for quite a while, the way in which she'd revitalized Paris was quite an achievement, but in his daydreams, it had been as a brilliant and respected natural philosopher, not as a criminal responsible for hundreds, perhaps thousands of deaths.

Perhaps even more, even from here, he could see that some of the buildings in the distance had been damaged by the earthquake. Just how far had it spread? He'd been quite sure it would've stopped at, well.

Oh, that was right, it would've stopped somewhere in the Ottoman Empire, where the African and Arabian plates he'd hypothesized would have absorbed most of the impact.

Perhaps, next time, he wouldn't ignore his numbers because they were so large they were probably not entirely correctly calculated. Just for the odd case that they had been correctly calculated, and he'd do a great amount of damage indeed. Still, besides the math, there was obviously no way he could've known what kind of damage his experiment would do.

At that moment, his face hit the mud again one final time, and Jean-Paul the angel spoke up again.

"Well, looks like you're not secretly a warlock or something, which means that I find it very interesting just exactly how you managed to do all this. Anyway, I will fly over and give a preliminary report to the queen, you guys escort this guy to the throne room okay?" He said. Then, he turned around, and took flight, soaring towards Paris on those mathematically improbable wings.

The boy had been thin, but that didn't mean he was light enough to fly. It just didn't make sense. Perhaps it was the feathers, Daedalus had used feathers in the myths hadn't he?

Quite soon, Everett found himself on his horse again, moving into the city, the animal happy with its short period of rest. Eventually, he found the courage to ask a question that had been burning in his mind since the angel had introduced himself.

He turned towards one of the musketeers, and spoke: "Vasil, like in Nikos Vasil, leader of the Huguenots?"

The musketeer didn't answer, but Everett found his own mouth moving all of a sudden, speaking in his voice against his will.

"Yes, the man is my father. Don't worry though, I'm a prim and proper Catholic and everything. Left home when I got sick of his shit, and her majesty the queen was gracious enough to take me in and ascend me into angelhood."

Confused about how Jean-Paul had suddenly hijacked his mouth, Everett felt even more confused when he suddenly started whistling against his will. The experience was rather… interesting, to say the least. Especially because he had always thought himself incapable of whispering.

Soon, they entered the city, and Everett spotted the things he'd heard so much about. The Parisian Guard, Bronze in hair and eyes, keeping the peace on the streets. Rumour had it that they had all been personally blessed by the queen, but Everett was sceptical. It would've taken her days to bestow a blessing upon this many people, anyone doing such a thing would have almost no time to themselves.

He also spotted a few soldiers from the Legion. Unlike the Guard, their blessings were just as clearly visible as those of the Angels and the Musketeers. But where the Angels had wings and the Musketeer had their physical perfection, the Legionaries were, quite simply, nightmarish brutes. Almost twice as large as normal men, with arms larger than Everett's pudgy torso, the muscles were both clearly visible, and clearly dangerous. Their hair was silver, placing them between the bronze guard, and the golden musketeers.

The message was quite clear, hostile magicks were not appreciated in Paris, and any attack would be met with swift retribution.

The people of Paris had quickly adapted, he saw taverns with extra-high doors and ceilings, roofed stalls on the street that were much taller than anywhere else. But the real miracle behind seventeenth century Paris was apparent in what could not be seen. The queen had done something, Everett wasn't sure what, to ensure that almost no-one in the city caught disease. No plague or Diarrhoea, not even a simple cold could hurt the people of Paris.

The closer they came to the palace, the greater the buildings. Brick and wood quickly being replaced by marble and glass, the nobility choosing to live as close to the palace as they could. He also spotted steel lines, connecting the roofs of different buildings. What purpose they served, he did not know. Perhaps they conducted Grammic charges between buildings? But for what purpose? Or were they there to allow people to quickly move from building to building? It was a mystery, one he had no answer to.

Eventually, they reached the gardens in front of the palace. His captors told him to dismount, and found an attended to lead to the horses to the stables.

The gardens themselves were unnaturally beautiful. Trees with leaves in every colour of the rainbow, blue grass, peacocks with feather patterns that looked even more intricate then normal, butterflies the size of his hands, the entire thing was filled with wonders beyond his wildest imagination. He spotted nobles, walking through the gardens, observing him from a distance. Some of them, the ones with golden hair that marked them as off-duty musketeers, were more informed than others, and started explaining what was happening. In the distance, Everett spotted another angel flying into the castle. This one had wings of bone instead of feathers. It was most peculiar. Did that mean there was a pecking order even amongst her majesty's angels?

Eventually, they reached the palace. Inside, the effects of the earthquake were almost invisible, here and there a chandelier was missing, but the broken glass was long gone. He didn't have the time to properly look around and admire the palace though, his escorts kept pushing forwards. Quite quickly, they reached what looked like the most important door Everett had ever seen, it was made out of multi-coloured glass and gold, and had four musketeers guarding it.

Once they reached it, his escorts created a semicircle behind him, motioning him forward. As he approached the door, it suddenly started folding in on itself, allowing him entrance to the chamber beyond. He hadn't seen anyone do anything to open it. Was there someone hidden with a lever somewhere? Or some sort of automatic sensing device embedded somewhere?

Beyond the door, he saw the throne room. In the middle stood a great golden throne, adorned with jewels. Sitting in it was Queen Amelia of France, wearing an ornate robe and adorned with jewels, her brown hair was covered by a small crown, a diadem, adorned with gemstones.

For all her jewels and finery, Everett could not but think that she looked a tad plain, especially surrounded as she was by the perfection of her angels. The way she sat in her chair, he wasn't sure whether to call her demure or shy, but it was quite clear she still relied upon her father, the regent.

Her father, the marquis of bones, stood to her right, just behind the throne. He had been the bone-winged angel Everett had spotted. He felt the man's gaze on him, judging him, deciding whether he would live or die.

To the other side of the queen stood an angle that he did not recognize. He was wearing white robes, which matched his eyes, hair and wings. The man looked impatient, as if he found himself too important for this. Which was ridiculous, as no-one was more important than the queen. Except perhaps the pope, or God himself. Everett was quite sure that the pope was not an angel, and the man most certainly did not look almighty, thus, he was confused about the man's expression.

To his left was another angel, a young woman, perhaps about twenty years old, with yellow feathers on her wings and in her hair. A peculiarity, slightly different from the rest. She looked somehow more grounded, less unnatural than the others. She was humming softly, the music hauntingly beautiful. Everett felt himself calm down just by listening to it.

On his right he spotted Jean-Paul, who gave him a cheeky wave, sitting on a small bench next to a girl angel that looked, to Everett at least, just a few months younger than the boy. The girl, Olivia he presumed, and the yellow angel were wearing clothes that left their stomach and arms bare, and in the older yellow angel's case accentuated her feminine assets. He wondered idly for whose benefit they were dressed that way. The Regent, probably.

Eventually, the Regent spoke up.

"Everett, son of Gaspard, you stand accused of creating an earthquake that killed countless people, including people of France. In addition to this, you have upset god's natural order, and moved England to our border. What do you have to say in your defense?"

He was silent, thinking about what would be the right answer here, when the angel to the queen's left started moving towards the door, beckoning one of the musketeers waiting outside to come forward. The man did so, kneeling before the queen before taking up his position.

Everett gulped, was this man going to be his executioner?

Eventually, he spoke. "Your majesty, everything I did, I did for France. I-." He was interrupted by the Musketeer who spoke up, addressing the queen directly.

"Partial truth, your grace."

Then, the queen spoke. "Everett, while within my sight, you shall speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Continue."

Everett thought about it. Partial truth? Had he been? Ah, he understood.

"In addition to serving my country, I also wished to prove my geological theories, your grace."

"Whole truth" The Musketeer spoke.

"A mistake then, rather than malice?" The Regent asked.

"Yes, I did not expect to create such a… spectacle." He replied.

"Whole truth"

Then, the queen rose from her throne, and walked forward. She made a signal to Jean-Paul, and Everett felt his body lock up, leaving him unable to move.

When she reached him, the young queen cupped his chin, her hands were covered in lace gloves, but her skin just barely touched him through the gaps. Once contact was made, she saw her facial expression change.

"Interesting… very interesting." She spoke. "No abilities at all? Are you sure Jean-Paul?"

"Yes your Grace" the boy replied, suddenly courteous.

"Weird, I'm sensing some very familiar structures in his brain…Very well then." The queen said, before looking Everett straight into the eyes. "Everett, do you swear to serve me and my descendants, mind, body and soul, until the day that I or my heir absolves you from your duty?" she asked.

He felt his mouth become mobile again, and thought about her words. She was recruiting him, rather than executing him. Interesting.

"Yes, your grace." He answered.

"Whole truth" the musketeer said.

Again, Everett felt his body lock up, leaving him unable to move, although it was a different feeling, very much unlike Jean-Paul's work. Then, he noticed his vision change, objects becoming sharper, and a great amount of undescribable colours normally outside of human sight manifesting. He felt something moving under his skin, followed by the skin itself moving, changing. He saw an old scar on one of his fingers disappear, and felt himself getting lighter. He had the feeling he could suddenly hear everything that happened in a great distance, and he smelled like he had never smelled before. Then, he started feeling new muscles on his back. They connected to limbs he did not know he had, but somehow they felt natural.

He moved them, and felt the air flow past his wings. Well, this was going to be interesting, wasn't it?


End file.
